


Trickster's Refuge

by sageclover61



Series: Raphael's Family [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Norse Religion & Lore, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, ArchAngel Michael - Freeform, Archangel Gabriel, Archangels, Because Angel Puberty, Comfort, Dean Winchester Has Powers, Except I thought we covered that already, Except they're not demonic this time., F/M, Fledgling Lucifer, Fledgling Raphael, Fledglings, Gen, Grim (supernatural creature), Headaches & Migraines, Hellhounds, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Therapy Hellhound, Thestrals, bloody noses, hellhound puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-16 16:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageclover61/pseuds/sageclover61
Summary: Heaven won't fix itself. Michael can prefer to do nothing, but he can't leave Naomi to do as she pleases. No more deaths among his angelic kin. He swore it.  He managed to save Anna, Balthazar, and Ephraim, but what is it going to take to save everyone else, too?There be puppies, foals, fledglings, and hatchlings.





	1. "Everything inside of me just wanted to fit in"

**Author's Note:**

> Sam's bloody nose in this chapter is graphic. Really graphic. It's located in the third section of this chapter and can be skipped if that would make you more comfortable. If it's recognizable, it's not mine.
> 
> ENJOY!!! There Be Puppies.

Sam enjoyed the quietness of the second library. Sigyn and Loki had decided their home wasn’t big enough so they had, with input from them all, added another wing to their home. The original library in their home was not huge and Sam was not the only person who liked the idea of a bigger one. It was a pleasant but weird feeling to find out that he was not the only member of his family interested by scholarly pursuits. Hela and Michael had worked some magic so the library was the quietest room in the house. Ambient noise from so many people did not penetrate the walls of the room, so unless there was an emergency, the only noise inside the library originated there.

 

It became Sam’s retreat. He was learning to have a family again, and he loved them, but adjusting was a process. It had just been him and Dean for this entire life. He knew Dean cared, but his brother’s insistence that they have “no chick flick moments” meant that they didn’t talk about their feelings. There were no expressions of constant  worry, or concern, or sorrow, and Dean even hid his love. He was much better at hiding his love than his disappointment, something he’d successfully learned from John Winchester. 

  
  


But for a family in which more than half of them had been angels in at least one lifetime, well, they were surprisingly demonstrative with their affections. Although part of that may have been for the fledglings. After all, children benefited from displays of affection. Which was an interesting thought. Did their immortal siblings and parents think he and Dean were children because they were so much younger in this lifetime than everyone else? He found that the idea of it didn’t bother him as much as it might have before Michael had found him on a mountain he’d  _ teleported _ himself to in a desire to get away.  _ Michael cared. _ He wasn’t sure he deserved it.  _ John hadn’t even loved him unconditionally _ and he was nothing compared to their immortal family of angels, Asgardian pagans, and wizards.

 

The library was Sam’s retreat for a second reason. He’d started having migraines again, so having access to a room that was perfectly silent most of the time helped. Sam wasn’t entirely sure exactly what Michael and Hela had done to the library, but he sometimes wondered if maybe he should ask if they could ward his room or some other secondary room, but he was hesitant about asking for more. He and Dean were already living here. Why should he bother them for more?

 

Sam shook his head to clear it, moving his hand across the shelf as he tried to select something to read. The choices were amazing. Sigyn’s family had been through so many lifetimes and so many universes that the collection was vast. Despite himself, he could imagine spending decades here and reading most or even all of the books.

 

“That’s why they’re here.”

 

Sam stumbled backwards and glanced over his shoulder. Hela had been regularly chewed out for sitting on the kitchen table, but someone had decided that the tables here were fair game. His sister sat on the table infinitely more than she sat on any other piece of furniture. So there she was, sitting on the table with a book in her hand.

 

“Hmm?” Sam wasn’t sure exactly what Hela was referring to, but at least she wasn’t shouting. He could already feel a headache building behind his eyes. It was going to be a bad one, he could tell.

 

“The books. For reading?” She made a ‘keep up,’ motion with her hand. When Sam blinked at her, she rolled her eyes with a “Nevermind,” and went back to reading.

 

Sam rubbed his temples. He really hated the endless stream of headaches. He should go lie down, maybe, but the fledglings had been playing tag in the house again and it was so noisy in his room, even though it was in the new wing.

 

He looked at the shelf again and saw a book with the title, “Ward properties.” That could be interesting, he thought, grabbing it.

 

The door to the library opened gently, but loud enough for Sam to hear the door opening. He looked over and saw that it was Gabriel.

 

“Hey, Sam, Hela. Dinner’s on the table.”

 

Sam winced. Everyone home was always present at family dinner. It was Sigyn’s “thing” and it was always loud. “I’m not hungry. Thanks though, Gabe.” Not with the migraine he could feel rising in his head. If he tried to eat now, it was not going to stay down. 

 

Gabriel tilted his head and Sam closed his eyes to avoid that look. His head hurt and he had yet to find any painkiller in the house. He was part of a family of immortal beings that didn’t get meaningless pains and if they were injured they could just magically heal themselves or one another. But if he admitted to any of them that he could use some painkiller, they’d badger him about what was wrong and then want to heal him, and he just wanted to be left alone. It was a stupid headache, he didn’t need any angelic healing.

 

Sam glanced down at the book in his hand. It was probably theory, but it wasn’t like he knew how to use that type of magic or if he was capable of it anyway. But maybe one of the principles would be useful with what he could do.

 

“Are you sure?” Gabriel asked. Michael might have pushed, but Gabriel knew that it must have been difficult to suddenly have so many overzealous siblings trying to look after him when he’d taken to putting even his own needs on the back-burner if that was what was required for a given situation. That much had been clear to him when he’d found out exactly what had occurred in the bunker prior to Sam’s soul finally flying him away from what was hurting him.

 

Sam tucked the book into his body with one arm, using his other hand to rub his head as the pain started to pick up. He was already starting to feel queasy, food would not help. “I’m going to bed early.”

 

Gabriel stepped aside to allow his younger brother to pass. He was concerned, but if what Sam really needed was sleep, then he wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. “You coming, Hela?”

 

His sister closed her book and left it on the table. “I’m coming,” she said, sliding off the table and joining him. “I think Sam has a migraine.” She passed through the door he was holding open and stopped in the hallway, looking at him. “Do you know if he has a history of headaches? He’s been in the quiet of the library a lot, and I see him wincing sometimes, when he thinks no one is watching.”

 

“A few years back he had some psychic abilities come up, telekinesis, prophetic visions, exorcising demons with his mind. I’m not sure if anyone knows how much was from the demon blood and how much was natural abilities warped by the demon blood. I wasn’t there, but I know that Sam got nosebleeds if he exercised his powers too vigorously.” Gabriel closed the door and followed Hela towards the kitchen.

 

“He’s definitely not using them intentionally, we would feel that. But something’s up, I think.” They were the last to reach the kitchen, but neither Michael or Sam were present for the meal. Balthazar was visiting, which made Michael’s absence more surprising to Gabriel.

* * *

 

It was a quiet night when Michael flew Anna to the front yard of Sigyn’s house. It was a new moon and a cloudless sky, so he thought it was a little surprising that no one was outside. He was okay with that though, because it meant no one was going to spoil his surprise. He hadn’t told anyone what he was doing, as he hadn’t been convinced that it would even work. It had though, even better than anticipated.

 

Michael opened the front door and stopped inside, holding it so that it wouldn’t close before Anna could follow him. The quiet outside had been misgiving. Even the quiet moments inside Sigyn’s house were noisy, these days. That was no surprise though, not with so many people living there.

 

It was well past dinner time, but most of his family were in the living room and kitchen. Hela was sitting on the table again. Loki had given up on asking her to move unless meal preparations were underway.

 

Balthazar was leaning against the wall of the kitchen, Hela facing him. Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were talking about, they had no shame. He looked in the direction of the front door when he heard it open. “Hey, Michael! You missed-”

  
  


Anna following Michael through the door cut Balthazar off because in the moment of hesitation she exclaimed, “Balthazar!”

 

“Anna!”

 

Balthazar walked towards them but Anna moved faster. There was a resounding crack of flesh against flesh that had even Michael wincing. Of all the things he’d predicted would occur if he brought Anna back, this was not one of them.

 

She’d slapped him. Anna had slapped Balthazar. They were angels, so no harm would come to either of them, but it still came as a shock.

 

The handprint was visible and Anna was rubbing her hand. She was still glaring at Balthazar. “We thought you were dead!”

 

Balthazar swallowed. “Not dead?”

 

“Samuel is sleeping,” Hela cut in. “If you wake him, there will be consequences.” She jumped down and picked up a tray that was also on the table. She moved towards the hallway into the new wing and made a ‘come hither’ gesture at Michael.

 

The archangel went, deciding that it was probably better to leave Anna and Balthazar to sort out their differences. Gabriel was poking his head out of the living room, watching Anna and Balthazar with an expression Michael was unable to identify.

 

Hela held out the tray towards Michael. “Can you run this up to Sam’s room? He missed dinner, electing to go to bed instead. He was acting as though suffering from a headache, but Gabriel and I weren’t certain.”

 

The tray consisted of simple fair, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers. “What's that for?”

 

“I’m not sure why we never thought of this, but humans get pains not caused by injury. Headaches, Charlie horses, muscle cramps. Our little brothers might appreciate a bottle of something to deal with it.”

 

Michael wasn’t sure he understood why, but he wasn’t going to argue with Hela. “I’ll take it up.” He took the tray from his sister and walked to Sam’s room.

 

Michael smelled blood before he opened the door. Easing the door open, he was greeted with a very dark room and a sleeping hunter. He wasn’t sure exactly why he could definitely smell blood, so he put the tray on the bedside table. He watched Sam for a few minutes, but there were no obvious signs of distress, so he turned to leave. Turning around, he saw that he’d missed a book on the floor a few feet from the edge of the bed.  _ Paper cut, then. _

  
He picked the book up to put it back on the table.  _ Ward Properties. _ There was a bookmark sticking out of the book, but Michael chose not to pry further and left to go back downstairs and make sure Balthazar and Anna hadn’t killed each other. He was informed that they had left together. Jor and Castiel were gossiping about it with Hela. Michael really didn’t want to know.

* * *

 

Lucifer opened the front door, using the shouting of the angel in the kitchen as a distraction. It was loud in his head. Not Balthazar or Mica, but something else. He didn’t know what. But it was making Raphy cry and Gab’ril and Mica were too busy with Sam to make it stop.

So the young fledgling left the house, hoping to make some distance between himself and the buzzing noise that was somehow focused in the house. While Lucifer walked, he found a nice stick. The stick branched off into a fork and he thought it was a very nice stick.

* * *

 

Sam’s migraine woke him up. It was blessedly dark still, so he couldn’t care that he hadn’t slept anywhere near enough. He wondered if a warding spell could make it this dark in his room during daytime. The window blinds couldn’t block it all out.

Sam smelled several things. There was a faint food scent, but there was an even stronger one. The sickly sweet and slightly metallic scent of blood. Where was it coming from? He rubbed his nose. It was itchy and slightly odd feeling. Wet, but he didn’t think it was running. His hand ended up all wet, and as he looked, he could only tell in the dark that whatever it was, it wasn’t clear. He sneezed.  _ Ow _ , that hurt. The scent of blood diminished momentarily.  _ Oh, shit. _

He got up, the throbbing in his head worsening from both the movement and the sneezing. Sam made it to the light switch and closed his eyes when he turned it on. Even just the white he could see through his eyelids was too bright, but he had to look. Blinking against the harsh light, he couldn’t help but let in a sharp breath of air.  _ Fuck. _

It looked like a crime scene. He had a very bloody nose, and the sneeze had managed to splatter droplets all over the bedding and the rest of the room.  _ He could not deal with this right now. _

Closing his eyes, Sam stepped out into the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully. Where was Michael? He couldn’t hear any ambient noise, which meant the fledglings at least had probably headed to bed. They needed sleep. Not as much as he or Dean, but some sleep nonetheless. No one else here did, as far as he knew, but it turned out that the Asgardians liked some alone time that was a little different from sleeping, but still quiet and the angels were capable of sitting in silence for long periods of time if they wanted to.

Sam tried Michael’s room first. Michael’s room had been on the second floor next to Sigyn’s, but the fledglings had more or less stolen it for themselves, so Michael had taken a room in the new wing. Sam was kind of glad, because that meant he didn’t have to wander the house in this state. The door to Michael’s room was open a few slivers.

Tapping lightly on the door, Sam poked his head inside. “Mica?”

Michael had been sprawled the bed staring at the ceiling, legs dangling well over the edge of it. At the interruption, he sat up. “Yes, Sam?” Unlike earlier, he could see the blood on Sam’s face and shirt. “What happened?”

Sam walked towards Michael. His head was pounding and he was so glad it was dark in here, but even so, his eyes were squinting against what light there was. He dropped onto the floor at the foot of the bed, his head by one of Michael’s feet. He brought a hand up under his nose.

Drop, drop, drop. Michael watched as the blood dripped from Sam’s nose, pooling in his hand. That explained the blood,  _ but why was there so much of it? Was that normal? _ But there was something else wrong too. Sam was squinting and Michael could tell Sam was in pain, but his nose wasn’t broken.

“Mica,” Sam whimpered again, squeezing his eyes shut. He reached for Michael’s foot with his other hand, but didn’t touch. He was a mess, but he didn’t want to get his filthy all over the archangel.  _ “Please _ , can you fix it?” He wanted the pain to go away, but there was so much blood too. He wanted the bleeding to stop and the blood vanish.

Michael frowned at the bloodied hand Sam was reaching out to him with.  _ His little brother was denying himself comfort because he thought he didn't deserve it.  _ Careful not to land on Sam, Michael slid onto the floor. Holding out his arms with the intention of offering Sam a hug was all it took to have the hunter falling into his embrace.

Sam couldn’t help it. Michael was warm, and with his eyes closed against the crook of Michael’s neck, it was dark, too. Michael put a hand on the back of Sam’s neck. Sam could feel his grace, but he couldn’t see the bright light associated with it and he appreciated that.

The archangel used his grace to heal the blood vessels in Sam’s nose and to diminish the pain in his head. He tried to determine the cause of the nosebleed and the migraine, but there was nothing physiologically wrong with him.

_ “Michael? Do you know that it looks like a combat took place in Sam’s room?”  _ Gabriel’s voice was in his mind, and he suspected it was because the Messenger didn’t want to disturb anyone else unnecessarily.

_ “He’s in here,”  _ Michael replied similarly.  _ “Nosebleed, headache. I healed it and cleaned him up. He’s asleep, now.”  _ The archangel considered the sleeping hunter. “ _ Can you clean it up? _ ”

“Already done.” A moment later, Michael’s room was inched farther open by the Messenger. Seeing Michael on the floor holding Sam, Gabriel approached.

Michael shifted, making room for Gabriel to sit next to him and Sam, touching them both. Michael moved an arm around Gabriel. His brother exhaled sharply, leaning further towards Michael and taking a small portion of Sam’s weight into his own lap.

They sat for hours, until after the sun had risen. The archangels didn’t need sleep, but they also didn’t get bored and a few hours of a shared quiet was just what they needed.

Sam noticed the pressure behind his eyes before he came to complete awareness. He was sure he’d asked Michael at some point to offer some relief, but maybe that’d just been wishful thinking from his dream. It was nice that his headache wasn’t still a full blown migraine, but he was so done with them.

He shifted slightly and was surprised to feel the warm press of another person against him and the cool chill of the floor against his back. Sam peeled his eyes open to find himself pressed between Michael and Gabriel. Light filtered through the curtain over the window and he bit back a groan as it triggered the pressure already building behind his eyes.

“Hey, Sam,” Gabriel said, noticing the human coming back to awareness. “How are you feeling?”

Sam screwed his eyes shut. His migraines caused his senses to go into overdrive and he could only be thankful that the archangel wasn’t shouting. His hands found his forehead as he tried to push at the pain, of which there was far too much.

“Sam?” Michael kept his voice in a near whisper as he brushed a hand against the hunter’s head. He didn’t need to be a Rit Zien to know that Sam was feeling discomfort. But he’d fixed the headache earlier. Why was it back already?

There was a crash in the kitchen. “Who drank the rest of my firewhiskey?!”

While loud, Balthazar wasn’t really shouting, but the sound still had Sam flinching into Michael’s grasp.

Gabriel stood up at the sound of shouting, but at hearing the topic of the ruckus, fell backward into quiet laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” queried Michael.

Tears streamed gently down the younger archangel's face. “I know who took the firewhisky,” he managed to choke out.

“Shh,” Michael whispered. “You are disturbing young Sam.” Sure enough, Sam was wincing and almost cowering into Michael's shoulder.

Gabriel continued laughing, only silently now. Michael gave him a disapproving look and placed a gentle hand on the back of Sam's neck. “Are you in distress, Sam?”

Sam forced himself to breathe, but Gabriel's laughter was like being on a tumultuous shoreline during a gale and his head was the cliff the waves crashed against. He slammed his palms against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the intense buzzing that was making the real sounds even louder.

His nose felt weird again.  _ Fuck,  _ he thought, as blood dripped onto his T-shirt. He liked this shirt, damn it. “Mica, am I broken?” he whimpered.

Michael ran an arm down Sam's shoulder, trying to offer comfort without overwhelming the hunter. There was nothing physiologically wrong with Sam that would account for the bloody nose. Slightly anemic and mildly dehydrated made sense but he didn't have cancer, unusually dry or constricted blood vessels, and he had neither a broken nose or brain hemorrhaging. So why was Sam's nose bleeding so much? And what was this about being broken? Just because he had an unusually persistent bloody nose didn't mean there was anything else wrong.

Michael used his grace to dampen Sam’s senses. The sound had clearly made Sam’s headache worse. It wouldn’t deafen him, but it would probably make the noise more bearable. He also did what he could to numb to migraine and stop the nosebleed.  _ “Hey, Gabriel, could you go get Sam a glass of water and make sure Balthazar doesn’t kill Dean?” _

Gabriel managed  to stop laughing long enough to nod, and stood up again, this time leaving the room and headed to the kitchen. Balthazar was fussing over the empty bottle and Dean was standing in the corner facing him holding his cup of coffee to his face.

Anna stood a few paces behind Balthazar, a confused expression on her face. “What does it matter? We don’t need sustenance.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “But you haven’t lived until you’ve had a glass of this stuff. It’s strong enough to get even us drunk!”

Dean choked on his coffee. Gabriel tilted his head in consideration. The hunters would not have come across alcohol from the wizarding world for a multitude of reasons, but it seemed odd that after drinking a little bit that first time that Dean wouldn’t have considered exactly how much kick it had. Wizards needed stronger alcohol than the non magical humans for a reason.

“Gabriel? Do you know what happened to the rest of the firewhiskey?” Balthazar asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “You did leave it here to be consumed, does it matter? I’ll replace it later, that was the only alcohol in the house.”

The angel considered that new information. “Should I not have brought it here, then? Jor and Hela seemed to enjoy the excursion to London.”

“That wasn’t what I meant to imply.” Gabriel saw that Dean was still hiding behind his coffee cup and appeared far too interested in this conversation. At some point he’d probably have to have another heart to heart with the hunter because over-consumption of alcohol was not the solution. Probably.

Sigyn walked into the kitchen carrying Raphael. The fledgling was fussy, squirming and mewling quietly. “Good morning, Slip,” Sigyn said. She walked towards the table. “Good morning, Dean. Did you sleep alright last night?”

The hunter shrugged, using the cup that Gabriel knew to be empty by now as an excuse not to speak.

“Hello, Anna, Balthazar.” Sigyn glanced at the empty bottle of whiskey. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be drinking that?”

“Who doesn’t like a little whiskey in their morning coffee?” Gabriel moved to the other side of the kitchen table, standing between Dean and Balthazar.

With Balthazar’s attention firmly on the other people in the kitchen, Dean put the empty coffee cup in the sink and made his escape to the library.

Dean liked the library. He wouldn’t tell anyone that he liked reading, but that wasn’t why he liked the library. Hela and Michael had done something so it was quiet all the time, even when fledglings threw tantrums right outside the  _ closed doors _ . If Sammy was hiding away in there, Dean chose not to hide in there too, but otherwise it was perfect. Hela spent a lot of time in the library as well, but she wasn’t as energetic as some of her siblings and wasn’t going to, for the most part, engage in conversation when he mostly wanted to be alone.

It was really weird. He could remember the memories of other lifetimes now that Gabriel had helped by  _ poking _ his soul. The first universe was clearly the most important, considering that was the only lifetime he’d ever been born as Sigyn and Loki’s biological child.  _ He and Sam both. _ The archangels were downright weird about it. By which he meant Michael and Gabriel. They remembered too and firmly believed that nothing had changed. But Dean didn’t really agree with that assessment. Despite remembering everything, he remembered the last 30 years the best. 30 years that had been him and Sam against the world. Not him, and Sam, and their extended family of archangels and pagans. Siblings who seemed to think they’d all been separated for far too long and that it was their responsibility to make up for all those aeons as quickly as possible. But Dean, he wasn’t ready for that yet and just thinking about it made his head reel.

“You matter to us.” Dean looked up to see Hela standing near him, arms behind her back.

“What?” he croaked.

“That’s all. That’s it.  _ You matter to us. _ ” With those words, she turned and disappeared among the books, leaving him to ponder her statement.

Why the fuck did she say that? How could he possibly matter to anyone with the possible exception of Sam? Shaking his head, he slumped back and sighed. He wasn’t drunk enough for this shit. The firewhiskey had been good shit, especially in his morning coffee, but then it had been gone. The first shot had been stronger than he’d expected, but he’d learned a lesson after that and only put part of a shot in his coffee. That shit was potent, and it was gone. He groaned, and wondered what he would have to do to get his hands on more of the stuff. Probably best not to go to Balthazar, he was pretty sure he had burned that bridge already. Maybe, ugh, which of the others would be more likely to smuggle him some. Maybe, Gabriel? He seemed like he might be the easiest to convince. Maybe he’d talk to him about it. But, later. Now, sleep. His headache wasn’t going away and he didn’t have any alcohol to drown it out with.

Balthazar watched the hunter leave the kitchen. “He drank the rest of the whiskey, didn’t he.”

Gabriel nodded, lightly chuckling. “He got absolutely plastered the first time, when he put a whole shot in his coffee. It was hilarious.”

“He finished the bottle anyway?”

“It took him until yesterday. I will replace the bottle for you. But maybe you could not tell him you know about this?”

“I probably would not have suspected him first, but I guess it makes sense.”

“Gab’ril,” Raphael cooed from Sigyn’s lap.

Gabriel turned towards the fledgling. “Good morning, Raph.”

“Up!” The fledgling flailed, smacking Sigyn in the jaw unintentionally in the process.

“Careful, small one,” Sigyn said with a light chuckle, pulling him to her chest.

“Sorry, Sigyn,” Raphael murmured tucking his head into her shoulder.

Gabriel stepped towards Sigyn and wiggled a finger against the fledgling’s back at the base of his wings. Raphael hummed happily, flexing towards Gabriel. Gabriel smiled at the fledgling and continued to brush his fingers down his back.

“Gab’ril?” questioned Raphael, turning a bit to look at the older angel. “Up?”

“Com’ here, little guy,” Gabriel said, and reached out to take Raphael from Sigyn. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-uh,” the fledgling mumbled. He didn’t resist Gabriel taking him and laid his head on the archangel’s shoulder. “Loud.”

“Were we too loud last night?” Balthazar asked.

“Not you,” Raphael replied. “Is loud.”

“Is it still loud?” Gabriel queried.

“Uh-huh, is loud.”

Gabriel Raphael’s back and then ran his fingers through the fledgling’s wings. His brother said something was loud, but if it wasn’t them, what could he have heard?

Michael waited as Sam rested. What had caused the migraines and nosebleeds? He sighed. What was taking Gabriel so long with the glass of water? He’d mostly asked Gabriel to get it to get him out of the room, but it hadn’t helped. Not noticeably, which meant that he hadn’t been the largest factor to Sam’s discomfort at that point. So what was the cause?

“Mmm,” Sam hummed as he stirred, headache having receded at least temporarily. “Michael?”

The archangel had realized that the young hunter saved the shortened moniker for when he was feeling at his most vulnerable, which suggested he was feeling better. Even if Michael didn’t object to his siblings calling him that, for the most part.

“Yes, Sam?”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you last night.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Michael replied. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s stomach growled, concurring. “May I have something to eat?”

Michael helped the youngest of Sigyn’s children off the floor. “I believe that Mom is preparing something for the fledglings to eat. Would you like to join them?”

Sam nodded without thinking about it. He loved the fledglings. And unlike Dean, they had yet to scold him for every single thing he’d ever done. He still wasn’t sure exactly why he and Dean were welcome here. Was the fact that they were supposedly blood to Sigyn really enough?  _ Family doesn’t end with blood _ and John had not loved them.  _ He had been blood. _ Even after  _ everything, _ the archangels still claimed to want them. It was too good to be true.  _ He didn’t deserve their kindness. _

“Come eat breakfast,” Michael repeated. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Sam followed the archangel to the kitchen. Sigyn was stirring something on the stove, a delicious scent filling the air. Gabriel was holding a sleeping Raphael and leaning against the kitchen table.

* * *

 

Crowley had no idea what to do about the tree and ocean in Limbo. Those ridiculous Winchesters had promised they would go away, but there they were. Trees couldn’t even grow in Limbo, and that ash tree was way taller than the ones on Earth could ever grow.

Better to worry about things he really could deal with. Like Lucifer. If the fallen archangel won the battle, he’d destroy mankind and demonkind. The colt wouldn’t work. So how to kill the archangel.

Well, Lucifer had gone and disappeared after an epic expenditure of grace that had a signature most definitely not belonging to Michael. So it probably hadn’t killed Lucifer. So where was he? He and Lucifer had definitely not parted on the best of terms. Maybe trying to repair that peace a little and prove the usefulness of himself and the rest of demonkind as well, would be the best way to ensure his survival. Or at least increase his chances of it. But what to do, what to do. What could he, Crowley, offer the Prince of Darkness that he could not get for himself? Lucifer had seemed at least moderately reasonable the last time they spoke, or at least more so than when he had initially emerged from the cage, though that was a few too many “if’s” and “at leasts” than Crowley preferred to work with. But it was all he had, he supposed. Leaving it off, or ignoring it with any more procrastination would most definitely work against his favor. Knowing the prideful Lucifer would most likely assume that he, Crowley, had assumed him to be unworthy of being a threat, and as always, a slighted Lucifer was a dangerous Lucifer. Crowley shuddered at the thought. Yes, as dangerous as approaching the archangel might be, ignoring him would be even worse. The second problem, as it was, would be actually  _ finding _ Lucifer to grovel at his feet. Despicable as that would be, Crowley preferred his life to his pride, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t done similar things before, or like he had his entire pride intact anyways. He had a perfectly fine sense of self preservation, thank you very much, and it wasn’t beneath him to squirm his way out of trouble with the occasional false bowing and scraping.

But finding Lucifer. That really would be the most difficult part. He supposed he’d have to employ someone to locate the archangel. As much as he hated the idea, maybe there was a witch or warlock he could bribe into servitude. Who had died recently that was powerful enough to do so? And of course, in Hell. He couldn't exactly access the souls in heaven. Fuck. This would be a bitch, wouldn’t it.

Maybe he should just approach Lucifer, after he’d found him of course, and let the angel decided what he wanted. Hopefully, it would be something reasonable and not Crowley’s own head on a picket. That would be most unfortunate.

Crowley communicated his desires to Ellsworth, a demon capable of locating the Dark Prince, and found out the location of Lucifer. None of his demons could actually get to the location, they described it as running into a brick wall, but the archangel was clearly on Earth. So Crowley went to investigate.

He could tell where the wards began, but they did not hinder him. The wards were unique and not in a language he was capable of comprehending. They were complicated, written as layers upon layers of varying protections. Why wasn’t it keeping him out?

Oh well. Regardless of whatever small flaw it was that allowed him to get through, he would use it. Functionality over rationality, as he’d heard it said. It didn’t matter how it worked as long as it did. Maybe that wasn’t quite the expression. Hmm. Well, regardless, he didn’t have time to worry about such trivial matters. He had work to do.

According to his sources, Lucifer was here and had left infrequently since the explosive use of archangelic grace that no one knew anything about. Was one of Lucifer’s siblings keeping him hostage? Or had some other nefarious thing occurred?

His sources also knew nothing about what  _ here _ even was. Not only could they not get in, but they had also been unable to keep track of the comings and goings of anyone else in the area. Which actually smelled slightly of trap. Why could he get in if no other demons could? That didn’t make any sense.

Crowley was in a forest, and now that he was on the inside of the wards, he thought he could get a better idea of who was here. Except that wasn’t true. He caught Lucifer’s scent, but the few other scents he could identify were masked to him. In fact, Lucifer’s scent was the only one he could pin down and follow.

Crowley followed the scent. The other noticeable scent was of thestrals. A multitude of them. Why were they here? Reapers rode them sometimes and there were a few herds on Earth, but they never gathered so many in a place under normal circumstances, at least as far as he knew.

As he kept walking, Crowley passed a small building. It was surrounded by the forest and there were only two scents that were not dog. One of the scents was fresher. He didn’t know what the scent was of, beyond the fact that everything about it permeated  _ ancient.  _ Both scents were like that. They smelled like nothing he’d ever smelled before.

The fresher scent belonged to a healthy woman who was beyond old. She’d been happy, but that didn’t begin to describe it. The joy in her scent almost masked everything about it, including how ancient she was. Crowley had not met Death or God, but both of these scents belong to beings older than Lucifer himself.

The second scent was male. It was healthy and ancient. He could not have guessed at their age, or even which was older. Did the term deity apply? He’d met pagans, but they were far younger than archangels. Maybe he’d never know. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

Crowley kept moving through the forest and eventually came to a spot where he knew Lucifer was not far away. He heard movement on the other side of the trees in front of him. Crowley peered through the branches and what he saw surprised him.

There was a kid standing on the other side of the tree. HIs physical appearance was that of a five or six year old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He also had visible wings of a vibrant champagne pink hue relaxed behind him. The child was playing with a knobby stick, his entire attention on it.

Crowley blinked. The kid smelled exactly like Lucifer and looked like he had before, except this vessel was much younger than before. Demons did not often inhabit children as vessels, though Lilith had been an exception. Angels and archangels required consent, though, Lucifer included. Could children even give consent? Well, it mattered not. He was here to do whatever was necessary to stay on Lucifer’s good side, which very likely meant saying nothing about the vessel even if it was unusual.

The demon stepped around the tree. “Sir?”

The fledgling looked up from his stick at the vaguely familiar voice. “Who you?”

Crowley noted that the child sounded more curious than demanding. “You don’t remember me?”

Lucifer squinted his eyes and stared at the larger man seeming to concentrate. Then his face cleared. “Oh,” he said dismissively. “You’re Growley.”

Growley. That was a new one. Well, he’d been called worse in the past. “Yes, I am.” 

The boy’s concentration already drifting back towards his stick, “Why ‘re you here?”

Crowley considered the archangel. He wasn’t acting like an adult. The speech and behavior were almost more indicative of a child. The fuck had happened to the Lord of Fire and Brimstone? This wasn’t even a Boy King. This was like… a baby. Well, either way, or whatever had happened to him, it would likely be reversed soon. Maybe this… less volatile, Lucifer, would be easier to appease. Or maybe Lucifer was fucking with him! Both were likely options. A quick glance at Lucifer revealed that the kid had already returned his complete attention back to the stick he was waving around and appeared to be pretending was a doll. How strange.

He was here to appease Lucifer who seemed to be in an unusually good mood. Maybe it was a kinky thing and he should really be leaving? Probably not though, since there was no one else here for him to be getting kinky with. Well, he was here now and he wasn’t sure yet that he ever wanted to come back, so he’d better just get this over with. He was here to earn Lucifer’s favor by any means necessary. “My Lord, as you know, I have been watching over Hell in your… absence.” Please let that be the right word. “And so I am here now to check-in with you, so to speak.”

Lucifer looked up from his stick upon hearing Crowley speaking again. He wished the adult would stop bringing up grown-up things. Just because he remembered the Cage didn’t mean he wanted to think about it. Mommy and Daddy loved him, and so did Mica and Gabby and Raphy. They weren’t going to put him back and he didn’t need anybody else that wasn’t his siblings. “Yes, good job Growley, do that.” There, maybe now he’d leave.

Crowley blinked. Why was Lucifer praising him? This was not going according to plan. Not at all. Maybe a gift was in order. Lucifer liked things. “I would provide a token to you, as a show of our good faith.” Crowley winced lightly, bad choice of words, he probably shouldn’t mention faith in Lucifer’s presence. “To, um, each other and of my servitude.”

Lucifer tilted his head in confusion. Why was he being so long winded? Mica always used little words and short sentences. They were easier. He  _ could  _ use big words, but it took longer and they were dumb.

Crowley felt suddenly nervous at the scowl that had crossed Lucifer’s face. He’d better fix this before Lucifer lost his patience and smote him on impulse.

“Sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to impede, please, excuse my offer of a gift, I meant nothing of it.” He slowed as Lucifer’s face cleared.

“Gift?” he asked the demon. He liked gifts. Gifts were good.

The demon blinked, confused at this sudden turn around. “Yes, a gift, to give to you, as your humble servant.”

“Okay.” Maybe he would leave after that, Lucifer thought. He didn’t need a servant, his family took really good care of all of them. But he did need gifts. “Okay. Where gift, Growley?” he asked.

Shit. Normally in his interactions with Lucifer, he’d offer and the archangel would make his demands known. He had no idea what the young version of the Dark Prince might want. “Oh. Um, well Sir, what would you like?”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up in a way that the demon found  _ very  _ disconcerting. Yep. He was definitely going to ask for his head on a stick.

“Puppies!” Lucifer himself knew exactly what he wanted. A few days earlier, he’d overheard Sam and Gabriel talking about them and decided he wanted one, so he’d asked Mica and Mica said no. But this person made it sound like he’d give him anything he wanted. And Luci wanted puppies!

The demon found himself blinking again. “Ah, well then. What kind of puppies would you like?”

Lucifer thought on this, before very gravely replying, “ _ Baby _ puppies, Growley.”

“Yes, right,” Crowley replied solemnly. “Baby puppies are the best kind.” Lucifer nodded in agreement. Where was he going to get puppies? Wait. Hadn’t his best bitch, Daisy, just whelped a nice litter? Those were puppies. And relatively archangel proof, at least compared to regular dogs. He could offer Lucifer the pick of the litter. They were just old enough to separate from their mother, too.

“Well, then,” Crowley said, “I will be right back.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, the demon vanished from the spot.

Finally! Lucifer thought. He was finally alone! And maybe Crowley would even follow through and bring him puppies! The fledgling returned his attention to his stick. It was a nice stick. Maybe he should take it inside and show Mica what a nice stick he’d found. He’d leave out the part about Growley. Mica didn’t need to know about the person who had promised him puppies.

Crowley returned ten minutes later with his arms full of squirming puppies. Lucifer didn’t notice. He was too busy entertaining himself with his tree branch.

“Sire? I brought puppies for you to choose from.” In Crowley’s grasp there were three hellhound puppies and he carefully moved to set them on the ground.

“Puppies!” the young archangel cried, temporarily abandoning his stick as the newly freed puppies descended on him in a wave of pink tongues and fluff.

Crowley watched as Lucifer became acquainted with the puppies. “Sire?” he asked a little while later. “Have you decided which puppy you would like to keep?”

“All the puppies!” Lucifer exclaimed.

Crowley wasn’t about to argue with the archangel. He especially wasn't going to underestimate him in this form. The demon still suspected Lucifer was waiting for him to screw up so he could be justified in smiting Crowley. That day would not be today. “Yes, Sir. That’s why I brought you all the puppies. Is that everything, Sire? Might I be dismissed?”

Lucifer pulled himself away from the puppies long enough to look at Crowley and say in a tone as superior as he could, “Goodbye, Growley.”

Now that his goal had been accomplished, and his nerves fried, Crowley was not going to stick around. He’d just lost an entire litter from his best bitch, but at least it wasn’t his head on a pike. Daisy would breed more pups another time and maybe he would learn to keep his mouth shut. 

The demon disappeared with Lucifer barely noticing because he was too busy tousling in the grass with the three puppies.  _ Three _ . What to do next. Mica wouldn’t be happy, but that didn’t mean he could stop him from keeping the puppies.


	2. "I've Turned Into A Monster"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer takes his new friends home and Michael is a bit of a jerk. Everyone got more than they bargained for.

Lucifer eventually managed to make his way to the back door of Sigyn’s house with all three puppies in tow. He couldn’t use the front door because this was his secret. Mica might not let him keep the puppies,  _ but they were his! _

 

As far as he knew, breakfast wasn’t over yet, and if Mica came looking for him in his room first, he’d find the puppies fast. So he’d have to take them somewhere else. Puppies had come up in the conversation between Sam and Gabriel, so Luci knew that Sam liked puppies. He’d have an ally! Sam wouldn’t let Mica take his puppies away.

 

The new wing with Sam’s bedroom and the library also had a second staircase so Lucifer didn’t have to enter the kitchen to use the stairs. He did, however, have to walk past Mica’s room to get to Sam’s. But Lucifer could hear Michael talking in the kitchen, and maybe he wouldn’t look for puppies near his own room if he figured out they were any in the house.

 

Lucifer got the puppies to Sam’s room with a scattering of feathers, fluff, and drool, but he didn’t  care. He had puppies and it was time to play! 

 

Sam went back to his room after breakfast. To his great surprise, the room was not as empty as he had left it that morning. Instead, there was a Lucifer and three puppies frolicking on the floor in a mess of cream down, pink feathers, shed fur, and endless puppy slobber. All the bedclothes from his bed had been pulled from his bed and flung across his room like fallen decorations.

 

“Sammy play!” Lucifer squealed when he saw Sam in the doorway while rolling over to better angle himself away from the puppy gnawing on his toes.

 

After the breakfast dishes had been cleared away and his siblings and parents had wandered off, Michael headed back upstairs to see if Sam was feeling any better than that morning. The hallway to their bedrooms was a furry mess of down and feathers, and coming from Sam’s room he could hear the incessant giggling of fledglings. It was a beautiful sound, but also suspicious because not only was there giggling, there was also the occasional yip and squeal of something else.

 

Michael found the door to Sam’s room closed so he very quietly pushed it open. Sam and Lucifer were lying on the floor laughing as they played with three hellhounds. Both children were covered from head to foot in slobber and Michael was certain that he could see bite marks on the flesh of them both. “What is going on in here?”

 

“I has puppies, Mica!” Lucifer exclaimed while Sam grinned and said, “I’ve always wanted a dog.”

 

Of all the things any of the children could have brought home, it had to be hellhounds? They were small and Michael was hard pressed to guess at an age. Were these even hellhounds? How had they gotten through the wards? What if they hurt someone? “Lucifer, where did you get these?” It had to be Lucifer. Sam had come straight back here after breakfast and Lucifer was the only one missing at breakfast. How had the fledgling snuck away long enough to go and find hellhound puppies without anyone noticing?

 

“Outside.” Lucifer wasn't going to tell Mica about Growley. Mica was using his ‘I’m not sure I’m happy with you’ voice and Luci didn’t want to get his new friend in trouble. The puppies were his now, and Mica wasn’t going to take them away. Memories of another puppy he’d wanted to keep surfaced at the edge of mind, but he wasn’t going to think about that. “Mine!”

 

Michael considered. He was sure they were hellhounds and Father had been very specific in his command that the hellhounds were too violent and could not continue to exist. But Lucifer had disobeyed. He’d stolen a very pregnant hellhound and taken it somewhere safe before God could destroy it. Had that been the catalyst?

 

Were these even actual hellhounds? What if they were actually creatures even more dangerous disguised as hellhounds. Also, where had they even come from? “Luci, I said you couldn’t have a dog.” Carefully, he gathered up each of the beasts by the scruff, and stuffed them in his arms. “Let’s go see what Mom and Dad say about this.” Sigyn or Loki would probably be able to figure out whether or not they were actually hellhounds.

 

“Mica, no!” Lucifer screeched as Michael wrangled the pups, jumping up and firmly attaching himself to Michael’s leg.

 

Sam said nothing, standing up slowly. He hunched in on himself, pouting slightly. All he’d ever wanted was a dog. But Dean had taken that away from him repeatedly, and now Michael was doing it all over again.

 

Michael walked to their parents’ study behind the living room where he was sure their parents were. Lucifer wailed and the hellhounds bayed and Michael had to steel himself against Lucifer and Sam’s injured puppy expressions. Hela and Gabriel were in the kitchen and gave him some very displeased glances, but they didn’t move to interfere.

 

The door to the study was closed, but the light was on, so Michael tapped on the door before opening it. Sigyn was sitting on the desk facing Loki, who stood with his back against a bookcase. He was reading aloud from a thick, large book he held open in his hands entitled,  _ “The Complete Works of Ovid” _ .

 

“Zeus assured Baucis and Philemon that his wrath would not include them, for they had proven to be kind and giving hosts.  He told them to step outside their hut and to look around them. They were astounded to see only water where once there thrived fertile land and grand buildings. A huge lake had swallowed the entire countryside, people and all, and only their own humble hovel stood unscathed.” Loki stopped reading as he was interrupted by the displeased howling of one of the puppies that almost drowned out Lucifer’s wailing.

 

Sigyn looked over her shoulder at the solemn and upset party making its way into the study. She spoke as Sam closed the door dolefully. “Did the pregnant Grim finally give birth to her puppies? I’d been starting to wonder about her.”

 

Michael tilted his head in confusion while Lucifer stole his opportunity to keep them. “Yes!” That was exactly what happened. These were grim puppies, not hellhounds, what was Mica thinking?

 

Sigyn hopped off the desk and used Michael’s momentary confusion to ease the puppies out of his grasp. No wonder they were howling, they were very young and scared creatures. She put the two quiet puppies down so that she could get a better look at the howling one.

 

Lucifer let go of Mica and snatched the two remaining puppies off the floor and scampered over to Daddy with them because he didn’t want Mica taking them back.  _ They were his! _

 

“This is not a Grim puppy,” Sigyn decided. “I would say this female hellhound has the development of a six to eight week old puppy. But I bet she also only just left Hell, which makes them what, ten Earth hours old?”

 

“My puppies!” Lucifer exclaimed.

 

“I knew it!” Michael said.

 

“We can keep them, right Sigyn?” Sam begged.

 

“They’re dangerous,” Michael said. “We should not keep them.”

 

“But, Michael,” Sam argued. “Why not? They’re just puppies. They can be trained.”

 

**“They’re monsters, Sam!”**

 

Michael’s words caused the room to freeze. It shocked Lucifer into temporarily ceasing his wailing. All three puppies quit howling and squirming, and even Sigyn paused in her examination of the puppy in her hands.

 

The moment of silence was the calm before the storm. There was a roaring in Sam’s ears. A gust of wind crashed around the room. It rattled the window pane and knocked books off the shelf.  _ The Complete Works of Ovid  _ was wrenched from Loki’s grasp, flying across the room and striking Michael in the head.

 

Lucifer curled into the puppies he was holding, breaking into loud messy sobs. He remembered another time someone had called the puppy he liked best a monster. “Ramsey,” he whimpered. The sounds of crying and baying hellhounds echoed in his head as he recalled God cutting them down because they weren’t the sturdy but obedient and benevolent creatures he had intended to create. Canines had come later, the “best friend” of His last creation. But Hellhounds were supposed to be to the Celestials as Canine were to humans. The angels were weapons of celestial intent, why would their hounds be any different?

 

Loki knelt near Lucifer’s head, pulling the fledgling and both puppies he was holding into his lap. “Shhh,” he cooed, rubbing small circles in one of the small wings. “You and your pups are safe here.”

 

The wind settled as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the room in disarray. Sam huddled on the floor, shaking as he was immersed by a flashback. Blood dripped from his nose as he was subjected to yet another nosebleed.

 

_ Memories of one of the weirdest hunts from his childhood drifted through his mind. Researching voodoo lore had revealed a poison that created zombies. The mind-controlled slaves of a shaman mad with power. Sam remembered being excited upon discovering the cure for the poisoned civilians and the crushing disappointment when John had shot him down. “They're not people any more.” _

 

_ “But we can turn them back!” _

 

_ “No!” _

 

_ “But, we can-” _

 

_ “They're monsters, Sam!”  _

 

_ Sam could still remember the cold of the steel trigger, the sting of the recoil, and the tremble in his hands. It had been his first kill. _

 

_ Tears ran down his face, not of his own volition. Another memory played in front of his eyelids. “But dad! We could have saved them! How come you didn't even consider it? I had a cure!” _

 

_ John turn abruptly toward his younger son, Dean was hiding in a corner, cleaning the weapons and hoping his father wouldn't strike his brother’s face for his insolence. It was true that Dean had prayed once, but after discovering demons, fairy tale monsters, and humans in general, he had lost his faith. What was the point in praying if no one was listening. _

 

_ But Sam, Sammy was different. He had this heart of gold and a vision of the world that was simply unique.  _

 

_ “Quiet boy! That is quite enough!” John slapped the table, as both boys flinched at the sound of his voice. _

 

_ “I'm gonna say this once and so help me, if you don't listen to it, Samuel.” _

 

_ “Dad--” John grabbed the boy's arm pulling his closer. _

 

_ “Monsters are monsters, Sam. There is no saving whatsoever. Repeat it.” _

 

_ Sam watched him, defiance on his posture, John shook him, his fingers leaving bruises on the boy’s arm. “I said, repeat it, Sam!” John yelled. _

 

_ Hiccuping a sob, Sam mumbled, “Monsters are monsters. There is no saving whatsoever.” _

 

_ “Louder!” His father screamed, Dean closed his eyes, and swallowed his fear, knowing this would take longer. Sam repeated until his voice was hoarse with the strength of his proclamation. The phrase becoming a mantra in their minds. Sam dragged his body to bed, eyes tired, throat aching, mind racing, his heart heavy and his tears dried on his cheeks. _

 

_ Dean laid behind his brother as soon as his father stormed out of the precarious hotel room they shared, the young boy searching blindly for his brother's affection.  _

 

_ The memory changed and transformed itself again. This time the memory was bittersweet, Sam had found a small black puppy behind a dumpster in their way back to their motel room, again their father had left them alone and Sam had decided to walk around to burn some steam. He picked the puppy easily, the small creature yearning for love and brought it close to his body, hiding him inside his sweatshirt. _

 

_ “Dean! Look!” He called his brother and closed the door behind himself. _

 

_ “I found him all alone.” He cooed at the dog, smiling softly. _

 

_ Dean smiled as he approached both his younger brother and their newest companion. _

 

_ “You know we can't keep him, right?” Dean asked, caressing the puppy's pink belly. _

 

_ “But Dee, we could train him, he could hunt with us.” Sam tried to reason with him.  _

 

_ Dean sighed, tiredness and sadness coursing through his bones, knowing he would have to break his little brother's heart once again.  _

 

_ “Dad won't allow us. You don't want him to make you kill it, now do you?” Sam shrugged and shook his head, pulling the puppy into his arms and hugging it lovingly.  _

 

_ “Can we at least find a shelter or a nice place for him? He deserves it.” _

 

_ “Okay, Sammy, let's ask and see if there is one nearby.”  Sam jumped and hugged his brother, thanking him softly. _

 

_ Dean put on his sweatshirt, picked up a gun, hiding it inside his clothes and they marched out of their hotel room, the puppy safety inside Sam's sweatshirt. The boy talked nonstop to him. It was heart wrenching. Dean wished he could allow his brother this little indulgence, but he knew his father better, knew he would make both of them a responsibility for Dean, and Sammy was already one. He couldn't have another even if he knew it would be the only light in their messed up lives. _

 

_ They walked two blocks and reached an animal shelter. The woman who receive them was around her mid 30’s, on her white coat embroidered in cursive writing and pink was her name: Juliet. _

 

_ “Hello there, kiddo's. How are you? Did you come here to adopt you first best friend?” _

 

_ “Actually Ms., my little brother and I found this little stray dog and we cannot keep him, we travel a lot for our dad's job and it would be very tiring for a little puppy.” _

 

_ Juliet could smell the lie from a mile away, but smiled brightly at them.  _

 

_ “Let me see this little guy, hmm? Did you guys gave him a name?” _

 

_ “No, because we weren't going to keep him.” Sam said morosely, opening his sweatshirt and extending the puppy towards the smiling woman, kissing and snuggling it a little before finally letting go. _

 

Meanwhile, Sam’s family could only watch. The puppy in Sigyn's arms jumped down, scurrying towards Sam.

 

_ “Can you promise he’ll have a nice and good home?” Sam asked, eyes filled with hope.  _

 

Michael moved to stop the hellhound, but Sigyn shook her head as the puppy put her front paws up on Sam’s waist, as high and she could reach. She was the smallest of the three puppies and couldn’t reach his face to lick it. Unlike some predators, she made no attempt to lick at the drying blood on his lap or shirt. The puppy whined, trying to get the hunter’s attention.

 

Michael reached to pick up the puppy, but before he could, she had changed tactics. She took a few steps away and then leapt onto Sam’s knees. From there she stretched upwards, putting her paws on Sam’s shoulders and licked his face. She whined as she licked at Sam’s face.  _ This was her human and he was hurting. _

 

The archangel reached for the hellhound again. Rather than pulling her away from Sam, he found himself petting her. Somehow, this  _ thing _ was both the smallest of her litter and clearly the wisest. Michael could  _ hear  _ her desire to help from the raw power of celestial intent coming from the puppy’s mind.

 

Michael touched his younger brother and without meaning to he was swept away inside the memory. Sam was small, maybe 6 or 7 human years, while Dean was 11, maybe twelve. They had no business being this responsible. No business being alone without a parent around, no business in missing childhood. Yet, there they were, convincing an older woman that the small creature in her hands needed a nice and safe home.

 

Michael watched as both brother's walked back to their temporary home, Dean clutching Sammy's hand like a lifeline, hoping the boy wouldn't recall this his entire life. But knowing deep inside his young mind that this would create a wound on his siblings heart. Why couldn't things be easier? Why did their mom have to die and leave them? Why had their father gone crazy with obsession? Why couldn't they have a nice home, like Bobby's? Dean bet that if they asked Bobby, the man would agree in a heartbeat to a dog. No questions asked. Just so the old bearded man could see their smiling faces. Dean bet Sam missed Bobby's hugs too. The older man was always kind to them, but according to their father, Bobby was 'cuddling and pampering’ them too much. 

 

Sam suddenly opened his eyes, the puppy staring at him. “Sam?”

 

“They are monsters--” Sam mumbled, sadly.

 

“Hey little brother, listen to me, you are safe. Come back to the present, will you?” Michael called, caressing the boy’s face and healing his bleeding nose, cleaning his face in the process.

 

Sam blinked, finally focusing his attention on Michael’s face. “Where’s Dee?”

 

Somehow he was still locked in the memory. Michael felt his insides turn. If he was ever allowed the courtesy of standing in the same space as John Winchester inhabited, he sure as hell was going to shred his useless ass to pieces. How dare he break his boys like this?

 

Sigyn went to the door, shaking her head when Michael made eyes to join her. “I’ll get Dean,” she mouthed, exiting the room as quietly as possible.

 

_ “Tell me about the nosebleeds.”  _ Loki used the telepathy inherent to all angels that his family shared to ask Michael for the information.  _ “Have there been headaches too?” _

 

Michael glanced at his dad. “ _ He had a migraine and nosebleed last night. I tried to make them go away, but they came back this morning.” _

 

The archangel turned pagan turned wizard looked to the fledgling and hellhound puppies in his arms. They had calmed considerably since Michael’s first outburst and the following upset. The wind had not been unlike accidental magic and they were all used to the fledglings using their powers, not always intentionally. Lucifer appeared mostly asleep, though he whined softly, but Loki didn't think the storm had been caused by this small fledgling.

 

_ “Raphael was fussy this morning, Lucifer wandered off, and Dean missed breakfast after drinking all of Balthazar’s Firewhisky this week.” _

 

_ “And Sam had a bloody nose with his frequent migraines. Do you know why?” _

 

_ “Well. Sigyn and I got our wings back, yes? Sam and Dean had only begun growing into their wings, don't you suppose that maybe growing isn't the easiest thing in the world?” _

 

Michael didn't have the opportunity of responding because the door opened. Dean burst into the room, followed by Sigyn. The hunter looked like he had been about to say something, but he paused when he saw the puppies. “Why are there hellhounds here?” Dean blinked, considering the fact that he could actually see them. Not just a fuzzy outline or nothing at all. “Why the hell can I see them?”

 

Sam turned towards his brother's voice, his eyes glazed and extending his arms, Dean refocused and knelt without a second thought, embracing him. His fingers running through Sam's locks as he pulled him into his arms to rock him gently. “What's wrong, Sammy? What happened?”

 

Sam inhaled his brother's scent and clutched his shirt in his hands, finding solace in his brother's arms.

 

The puppy sitting safety inside Sam's legs laid her head on his thigh, getting comfy. Her human was going to be fine, he just needed things that were familiar to him. She would provide that whenever she could.

 

“Baby brother?”

 

“Please Dean, let me keep him.”

 

“The hellhound? But, isn't he, like, dangerous?” Dean asked sitting in front on his brother and eyeing the smallest creature in the crock of his knee.

 

At the pleading, watery gaze his b he relented. “Well, I guess, if Loki and Sigyn aren't opposed to it, neither am I. And I think it's a she, Sammy. Were you that out of it you didn't notice it was a girl?” Dean teased him, picking up the puppy and rubbing her belly.

 

Sam snorted, the noise startling both his brother and the puppy. “Hey, there, I guess you're mine to keep now. Hmm, what should I call you?”

 

“She’s cute, Sammy, and look, her fur is a pretty dark red color.”

 

“Juliet,” Sam declared. Her fur wasn't quite the same color as the hair of the nice shelter lady, but that didn't matter. She'd made an impact. And it was a nice name. 

* * *

Down in limbo, wailing echoed through the vast space. The cry of loneliness and hurt was not dampened by the endless sea still present along the base of an old ash tree.

 

The cries had once rattled against the metal bars of a Cage that should have never existed. But as long as her master had been there, her own imprisonment had been more bearable because at least she could try to break through his isolation. Yet he was gone now, and her voice only served to rustle the leaves of a tree that did not belong in this realm.

 

A tremor was felt in the depths of hell, the howl of a creature long forgotten breaking free from her shackles. The pain from her master coursed through her body and she bounded forward for the first time in many eons. Ramsey was the hellbent hound of Celestial intent that had been created to serve only one purpose. All those eons of torture and suffering for her and her master had done nothing to break her will.

 

She was created to protect, and love and cherish and protect her master and now she was going to do just that. First she would leave hell, then she would find her charge.


	3. "And There's Tears We'll Cry, but Those Tears Will Fade"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a visitor, Dean and Gabriel have an overdue conversation, and Samandriel witnesses Naomi kill Malachi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features some violence, but it is not descriptive. Samandriel has a panic attack in the section marked Heaven.

#  **Hell**

Crowley tried in vain to pay half attention to his demons, but his mind wouldn’t focus on them. His mind was too lost in thought over Lucifer and his hellhounds. Why had the archangel taken the form of a child? His vessel had been failing, but why would making it younger fix that? His mannerisms had also been odd. If the demon didn’t know better, he would say Lucifer had not only physically appeared childlike, but had also, to some extent, acted like it. That wasn’t true though, because he had also clearly recalled the Cage and prior events. So what was the archangel trying to do? Lure someone into a false sense of security? Crowley’s morality was nonexistent, but he did frown on the misuse of children. It reminded him too much of Lilith.

 

And what about the Hellhound puppies? What could Lucifer possibly want with them? They weren’t trained yet and really, they ought to have stayed with their mother for a little longer. How was he supposed to explain their absence to Daisy?

 

As Crowley contemplated, there was an echoing like thunder through the hall. It could be heard through all of Hell and the King of Hell was sure it originated from somewhere in Limbo. What had been down there besides the tree and ocean, other than the Cage and…? _Her_. He might have wondered why she was here, but Crowley already knew.

 

Crowley’s court parted and retreated. They did not run, because doing so would have appealed to the predator’s instincts to hunt them. Ramsey was huge, and it was almost as though the ceiling was retracting to make room for the snarling Hellhound.

 

The Alpha came to a halt in front of Crowley. She growled, coming to the source of her Master’s scent. This was not him, but he smelled of him. And also of kin. Her babies. _If he’d hurt them, she would tear his flesh from his bones and gnaw on them._ But there was no scent of fear or blood on him, or at least none from the pups he had handled. She couldn't care less about the other fear scents on him, or the faint copper tang of others blood.

 

Crowley swallowed. “You must want to go to your master. I can take you to him, if you’d like. None of us are keeping you hostage here, I promise.”

 

Ramsey barked once. Her master felt less pain now than he had earlier, but that was no reason to delay. _He needed her_ and she _missed_ him. _Home._

* * *

“Okay, then, just follow me and we’ll go straight to Lucifer.” The archangel better not smite him for this. She was technically his, after all. Even Crowley knew Lucifer had saved a pregnant Ramsey from extinction and that was the only reason her kind still existed.

 

Loki snuck out of the room with Lucifer and the two sleeping hellhound puppies before Sam was fully aware of his surroundings. They were deeply asleep, so he tucked them gently into bed. He was pretty sure that the two humans were showing signs of developing their celestial powers, but he wasn’t sure if that would explain why the two small fledglings were also being strange. Lucifer wouldn’t usually wander off by himself, but he also hadn’t explained where exactly the hellhounds had come from.

 

It took Sam a little while for his mental awareness to return. The persistent returning migraines had burned out most of his energy and the flashbacks had taken most of the rest of it. Juliet was a good hound, though, lying at Sam’s side and offering the quiet comfort animals were best at.

 

When Sam was calm, but not quite fully cognizant, Dean left the office. _What a day. It wasn’t even noon yet._ Dean slipped into the kitchen. Maybe more coffee would help. He was glad Sam was feeling better, but it was too bad his own head felt like someone was pounding it with a chisel.

 

“Do you need anything?” Gabriel was sitting at the kitchen table. Hela had wandered off at some point, so he was the only one in the kitchen.

 

Dean poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot. He didn’t need anything from anyone. He wasn’t even sure why he was here. Sammy was the one who craved family and stability. All his baby brother ever wanted was a stupid dog and now he had a fucking hellhound. What was that supposed to mean?

 

The hunter slumped into the seat across from Gabriel to nurse his coffee. What he really wanted was more of Balthazar’s fancy-ass whiskey, but he wasn’t sure that was a conversation he should just initiate. What was the point, anyway? “Don’t owe anyone anything,” had been one of the most important rules, and what did he do? He drank all the whiskey belonging to the most chaotic angel that ever was. _Better figure out how to make up that debt._

 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Gabriel repeated when Dean had started staring at his coffee. _Maybe that interference shouldn’t wait any longer._ No one else seemed inclined to figure out what was going on with the elder hunter.

 

Dean looked up. What he needed was for his headache to disappear and for people to stop asking stupid questions that didn’t matter. Sammy came first, so he didn’t need anything from anyone, especially not pesky archangels that couldn’t leave well enough alone. “I don’t need anything,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cold coffee. _Don’t need anything from anyone. “I can take care of myself.” “Take Sammy and run.” “He is your responsibility.” “If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!”_

 

“Dean.” Gabriel’s voice was quiet, but it penetrated the echo of John’s voice, and his own, repeating every instance of the mantra that had been his life for two decades.

 

Dean blinked. He was in a nice kitchen, not a ratty hotel, and Sammy was in the building, and that was okay, needed to be okay, because his brother deserved to get his own space. Dean was in the kitchen with Gabriel and he _really_ needed that drink.

 

“Where does Firewhiskey come from?” He’d thought it was just a name and presumptuous advertising. Now he wasn’t so sure.

 

“Balthazar’s was made in Europe.” Gabriel knew the Winchesters weren’t familiar with the natural born Wizarding kind, and he wasn’t sure if now was a good time for that. “I promised Balthazar I’d replace the bottle you finished.”

 

“It was good stuff.” Dean sipped at his coffee. It wasn’t bad, but it would definitely improve with some Adult Beverage added. “Would you consider bringing another bottle here?”

 

And therein lay the problem. Alcohol wasn’t the solution to whatever problem Dean was trying to solve with it. The hunter wasn’t always volatile, but when he was, it got bad, and while Dean wasn't a cruel or violent drunk, the potential was there. Sam and the fledglings had already forgotten about the outburst in the bunker, but he and Michael weren’t going to. Lucifer and Sam and Raphael had all gone through more than enough. There was no reason for Dean to be the one to put them through more.

 

Dean winced as the pounding in his head increased. Weren’t migraines supposed to be part of Sam’s psychic powers that had nothing to do with him? His own had been sporadic all week, and the little bit of whiskey had been like magic. Normal painkiller had never worked so effectively, but the whiskey was gone and Gabriel was being evasive. “I’d pay you for the firewhiskey,” he bargained. “How expensive is it?”

 

Gabriel studied his human brother. Dean’s expression was earnest, but also weary. The wince didn’t escape his notice, either. They’d automatically assumed that the bloody noses Sam had were related to the psychic abilities affected by the demon blood. But had they considered the possibility of the migraines being hereditary? If both hunters suffered migraines they could also share triggers and they had been unable to determine what was causing them.

 

Dean was also unlikely to mention it, Gabriel knew. Sam always came first to Dean. John Winchester had ensured that Dean would never seek his own comfort if Sam needed or wanted anything, and even if he didn’t, Dean was still unlikely to deal with his own problems because he saw them as irrelevant. Even Sam had been resistant to going to Michael for his own migraines, though in the end he had for the bloody nose. So if he was going to take care of it, he’d have to initiate.

 

“Dean,” Gabriel said, “do you get migraines like Sam does?

 

The hunter jerked his head, pulling away from the coffee he’d been drinking. The cup sloshed luke warm liquid into his lap. It was not longer hot, having been in his cup long enough to start cooling off. “No,” he denied vehemently. “I’m not Psychic. I don’t get psychic migraines or visions of the future or blood noses from things I shouldn’t be capable of doing.”

 

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Dean could deny all he wanted to, but the archangel was pretty sure he’d figured this out. “Firewhiskey is pretty concentrated. One shot's enough to get most humans blackout drunk, but it only got you pretty drunk.”

 

“Is that your way of suggesting I drink too much? You’re one to talk! You were the fucking Trickster for how long?!”

 

“Longer than you’ve been alive,” Gabriel snarled. “And I’ve smote people for less than what you did to Sam and the fledglings, so watch your tone.”

 

Dean flinched away. Gabriel had a point, but did he have to be so loud about it? The hum in his head was incessant and the addition of Gabriel’s shouting didn’t help.

 

“Dean, please. What’s wrong?” The hunter hadn’t tried to hide his flinch from the archangel, and Gabriel knew he hadn’t raised his voice. So what was he missing?

 

“It’s loud,” Dean mumbled. He put the coffee on the table. There was a small amount left in the bottom, but he didn’t feel like drinking it. “My head hurts, and the static is loud.”

 

Gabriel reached forward with a hand, putting it around Dean’s wrist. Had ‘Loud’ been one of Sam’s complaints? Raphael had been whining about it being loud, and if Lucifer had been seeking quiet, that would explain why he had gone outside by himself.

 

The archangel was about to ask Dean to describe what was too loud, except something in the angel radio distracted him. He and Michael had dulled themselves to the radio to a small extent while they had been in Sigyn’s house because Balthazar or Ephraim would tell them if there was an emergency. What caught his attention was the feelings of distress someone was pushing into the radio, loud enough for everyone to hear. Loud was a good word for it, except the fledglings weren’t connected to the angel radio properly. Right? _“Ephraim? What is going on up there?”_

 

Gabriel used a piece of grace to dull the pain in Dean’s head. “Why don’t you go see if Sam’s awake?”

 

“O-kay.” Dean wasn’t sure why that was Gabriel’s recommendation, but now that his head didn’t hurt, he decided that maybe he should get out of the kitchen. The static was still too loud, but it didn’t hurt now. If Sam was awake, they could go explore the property for real. He wanted to see the Grims.

 

Michael didn’t bring up the hellhounds again. He wasn’t sure to what extent he trusted the puppies, and Dean’s quick acceptance surprised him. But Sigyn and Loki were clearly all for keeping them, which was apparently enough for Dean. And he’d never seen Sam so happy.

 

“What do hellhounds eat?” Sam asked as Dean reentered the office. The younger hunter was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Juliet laid silently next to him, her head in his lap as he stroked her unconsciously. Sam was sure the puppies were young and possibly still drinking milk, but full grown hellhounds didn’t drink milk and weaned puppies needed even more solid food.

 

“They’re carnivorous,” Sigyn answered. “Like grims and canines. I’m sure the mix I feed the grims will work for the hellhounds. I keep it in the kennel out in the forest. Why don’t you two go get one of the bags of it and bring it here?”

* * *

#  **Heaven**  

Samandriel could only watch in horror from behind a pillar as Naomi drove her angel blade through Malachi’s sternum. His superiors had told him to report to Naomi. He had not remembered ever meeting her before, but he still felt unusually hesitant about following that command. _Like he knew it meant bad things._ His hesitancy towards actually going in was the reason he was now witnessing this death.

 

The angel’s wings trembled with his terror. He didn’t really remember Naomi herself, but he remembered this hallway. _There was pain, and fear, and screaming. Not just his own, but also echoes of his siblings._ He couldn’t go through with this. _Malachi couldn’t just be dead. He had always been a little insane, but also one of the strongest fighters. Naomi had killed him with such an ease._

 

“Has Samandriel arrived yet?”

 

The angel swallowed. He wasn’t going in there. Not now. Not ever again. _“Tell me,” he remembered her whispering in his ear. She had just cut into his grace and he couldn’t focus on what she wanted due to the pain._

 

 _Run. Flee. Fly. Escape._ Samandriel took flight before he knew where he was going, his instinctual need to escape overpowering the ever present desire to obey. _Malachi had made no sound as Naomi’s angel blade destroyed him. He had not even moved, as though whatever hold she had over anyone beneath her erased any survival instinct they still possessed._ Had they even been created with one? Samandriel could not remember. He could remember very little about a lot of things.

 

Samandriel flew like the devil himself was after him, though he was unaware that was the case. _Must escape._ But he hardly had anywhere to go. He wasn’t especially close to any of his siblings and even if he had been, he couldn't get them involved with Naomi. _He just couldn’t._

 

“Childe- Slow down.”

 

Samandriel blinked. He was surrounded by flowers and the low hanging branches of trees. He had come to the garden. Joshua stood a few paces in front of him, holding himself in a placating manner as he tried to calm the angel enough for him to come back to himself.

 

Samandriel’s wings stretched back as though this stop was nothing more than the taking of a breath before diving into a body of water. “Are you with me, Childe? What happened to put you in such a state?”

 

 _Hurt. Pain. Must flee._ The angel hurtled himself forward, unaware as his emotions seeped into his connection with the angel radio. He kept flying, his need for safety guiding him past the epicenter of heaven and towards the very edge.

 

Samandriel found himself surrounded by a blanket of heat. The warmth was not unpleasant and caused him to stop. The terror was still present, but somehow felt less overwhelming. _Dampening ward._

 

“Joshua couldn’t tell me why you’re in a frenzy, but I need you to calm down.”

 

Samandriel didn’t know the speaker, only that he was Rit Zien. Rit Zien. Healers. Or they had been. It was the worst kept secret, but the rank was often whispered synonymously with mercy killers. He didn’t want to die.

 

His wings trembled with the weight of his emotions. Samandriel was terrified. He mourned for Malachi and feared he would be next. At the hands of Naomi, or the Rit Zien, it didn’t matter. And his grace _hurt_ . Naomi systematically tortured and while the physical pain was always forgotten in the end, _he sure felt it now._

 

The Rit Zien winced at the state of the young angel’s wings. The careless and frenzied flight through heaven had disheveled his wings to the point where feathers were falling out. There were old scars in his grace and he’d also managed to open some of the newer injuries.

 

“Naomi,” Ephraim cursed. Of course it was her. He had become intimately familiar with her work after healing the damage to his garrison of Rit Zien from her ministrations.

 

Hearing the name caused Samandriel’s wings to flare in panic. _Not safe. Must flee. An instinct that seemed impossible to resist._

 

Ephraim cursed again, launching himself after the fleeing angel so lost in flight or fight instincts that he was way beyond conscious action.

 

Naomi had done nothing to him today, Ephraim was certain, so what had shocked him into terror on this level? There was physical pain from injuring his wings, but Ephraim could determine that mental anguish was also present.

 

_“What is going on up there?”_

 

The question to Ephraim was asked by Gabriel. The Rit Zien had so far only spoken to Michael about heaven, so the voice of the only other full fledged archangel sound caused Ephraim to jolt off his path and lose sight of the terrified and fleeing angel.

 

 _“I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I am chasing an injured and freaked out angel through heaven and his distress may be overwhelming the angel radio?”_ Just then, Ephraim caught the backlash from the angel’s anguish. He could _see_ Naomi holding an angel blade and proceeding to stab another angel with it, killing him.

 

Out of control. That explained why Samandriel was fleeing. But where too?

 

The healer followed the pain the angel was emitting almost all the way to the edge of Heaven. When he was in sight, he lunged again, flying directly over the other. “I’m not going to hurt you. Naomi will never hurt you again.”

 

“How do you know?” Samandriel veered another direction, trying to lose the Rit Zien. _Why is he following me? Run._

 

“Michael and Gabriel won’t allow it. They promised no more deaths among our siblings.”

 

“Malachi is dead!” the angel shrieked. “Dead!”

 

Ephraim winced. “You should tell Michael.”

 

Samandriel pulled away. _Naomi, Rit Zien, and archangels? What had he done so wrong?_

 

Ephraim didn’t move, trying to make sure that the other angel wouldn’t run away again. “You have to tell Michael,” he repeated. “Michael swore no more deaths!” He was angry. He didn’t want any more of this siblings dead. The archangels had said they would fix heaven, so why hadn’t they? What could be so important that Naomi was still free?!

 

The injured angel flinched. Anger was bad. _Naomi had been angry and she’d_ hurt _him._

 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Ephraim reached for his brother. “May I heal you?”

 

Samandriel’s wings jerked, throwing the angel away from the Healer. He jumped over the edge of Heaven, choosing to leave over dealing with this. He didn’t have a vessel though, making this riskier.

 

Ephraim sighed and followed his brother over the edge. They were not designed to leave Heaven this way, there were gates for a reason. Heaven was in a different dimension from Earth, and while falling would get them to Earth, their wings were not built for dimension crossing at terminal velocity. An uninjured angel or seraph at full capacity could probably slow their descent enough to make the flight safely, but there was no way Samandriel could do it.

 

There was no way Samandriel would survive the fall. His wings would burn into a crisp and he would be in agony. But could Ephraim actually catch the angel most intent on escaping, before they hit Earth’s dimension? Samandriel didn’t have a vessel either, which could hurt humans if they didn’t land well. But there was another option. Sigyn’s home was another dimension and vessels weren’t necessary. If anything went wrong, Michael would fix them after someone calmed Samandriel.

 

Ephraim flew after the falling angel. The air smelled of _old_ pain. Pain that had not dissipated after _aeons_ . It also didn’t belong to just one angel or seraph, but to many. He could not identify any signatures, except for one seraph. _Sahaquiel. Where had his nest-mate gone?_

 

He grabbed Samandriel’s shoulders and propelled him in the direction of Sigyn’s dimension. The momentum the injured angel had accrued was impossible for Ephraim to stop, causing their descent into the other dimension to be jarring. Samandriel’s wings were signed and smoke rose from them both.

 

Gabriel was standing in Sigyn’s kitchen as Samandriel and Ephraim crash landed. Ephraim let go of the more injured angel, and the younger angel’s wings straightened. The fluttering was enough to put out the sparks, but not before some went flying onto the table.

 

Michael entered the kitchen quietly from the direction of the office. “I’d like to know what’s going on.”

 

Samandriel jerked away. He might have taken off again, but his wings were done. They didn’t even tremble, despite his fear being palpable, and just hung slack from his shoulders as he shook. He stumbled, falling backwards onto the floor.

 

“Samandriel.” Michael spoke softly, trying not to frighten the injured angel any more. The eldest archangel walked slowly toward the angel. “Samandriel, what happened?”

 

The injured angel hiccuped, curling around himself, pulling his knees to his chest. “Naomi stabbed Malachi.”

 

Michael hissed, glancing at Gabriel over his shoulder. “No more deaths.”

 

“You’re the one that hasn’t dealt with her yet,” Gabriel reminded him.

 

“We’ve been busy!” Michael shook his head and knelt in front of Samandriel. “Ephraim and I won’t hurt you. Will you let us heal you?”

 

Samandriel’s breath hitched. “Rit Zien.” Michael didn’t understand the importance of that until it was followed by, “Mercy killer.”

 

Michael knew heaven had gotten out of control fast following God leaving. There was no excuse for that. None. The archangel wasn’t sure what he regretted the most. The Rit Zien’s “Mercy killings”, Naomi torturing his siblings, an entire garrison missing, Lucifer ever going into the Cage, or maybe that anyone had died. “No, Samandriel. No more mercy killings. Not you, not anyone else. No more.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.” Ephraim spoke softly, creeping forward. “No smiting or injuring. I just want to put your wings back together, okay?”

 

Samandriel conceded, so Michael and Ephraim set to work healing him. The archangel stitched the angel’s wings back together and groomed them while the healer worked on healing the damage to the angel’s grace. There was much damage, and though the Healer wasn’t reading the other’s history, he could tell that there were many missing memories.

* * *

Sam and Dean left out the back entrance when Michael left the office to greet whoever had burst through wards like a great ball of fire. There was no intent to harm, but that didn’t mean that they were not unharmed. The Winchesters weren’t afraid or anything, but the puppies were hungry and now was as good a time (better, even) as any other time to get the puppy chow from the kennel.

 

Juliet got up as soon as Sam moved. Her tail wagged as she made to follow him outside. Sam opened the back door and Juliet bounded down the stairs. When she saw that Sam and Dean were standing on the porch watching her, she barked at them once.

 

The boys walked down the stairs and as they headed towards the forest, the puppy ran circles around them. She didn’t bark again.

 

“Think she knows how to heel?” Dean asked, keeping an eye on the pup just in case she decided to turn on them. She didn’t seem aggressive though, just happy.

 

Juliet’s ears perked at the word ‘heel’ but she didn’t stop running around at their feet.

 

Sam shrugged. “Sigyn said they’re about the equivalent of 6 week old puppies, so wherever they came from, they probably haven’t been trained yet. But I guess we could see what happens? Juliet, heel.” He stopped moving to see what would happen.

 

Juliet yipped, then bounded to Sam’s left. She stood, her tail wagging happily to the point where her whole body appeared to be shaking. Sam leaned down to rub her head and she licked at his fingers.

 

“I guess the answer was yes?” Sam started walking, the hellhound puppy moving to easily keep pace with him. Just like when a human pet heeled.

 

“Since when is there a kennel on the property?” Dean asked as they walked deeper into the forest.

 

Sam shrugged. “No one mentioned any other buildings at all. Doesn’t it seem odd that Sigyn would have Grims?”

 

“Are they anything like the Thestrals?”

 

“Thestrals are like supernatural horses, Dean. Grims are supernatural dogs. The lore is really interesting.”

 

“But they're not monsters?”

 

“No!” Sam sighed, then quieter, “Not monsters, but they're as harmless as reapers. Probably more so.”

 

“Reapers, Sam?”

 

“Dean, all the hunts we've ever done, we find them because a human died, right? Dad was the same way. Sure, his philosophy was that if it wasn't human it had to die, but you've never even heard of grims and we never believed angels could exist. Grims don't hurt people and hellhounds can be trained not to.”

 

Dean took a breath. Sam had a point. Except for that faith healer but rogue reapers weren't the same. Regular ones were neutral beings. There could be a difference between creature and monster. His baby brother was excited about this so he wasn't going to spoil it. “Tell me about the Grims.”

 

“They're related to reapers. Sort of. Some lore says that the first person buried in a graveyard must ferry the souls of every person buried there into the afterlife. Doesn't that sound like a reaper to you? I think some of them have their origins there, but by no means would it be all of them. In some cases, people would kill a dog, often a big black one, and bury it in a new cemetery to ensure that it was not a person ferrying the dead. They were called grims and were considered an omen of death.”

 

“Hold on… Sigyn keeps dead dogs?!”

 

Sam coughed, biting back a laugh. “They’re not still dead, and they’re not ghosts. It makes sense, though. Thestrals can only be seen by people who have witnessed and begun to process the death of a person and you have seen the Calla Lilies in the flower garden, yes?”

 

Dean blinked. “Sigyn is Death?”

 

“I think she is less a death goddess and more someone who spent far too much time in solitude and was misrepresented in this universe. The lore isn't always right. Look at the bible. Hell, look at the fledglings.”

 

 _Maybe Sam has a point_. They were always learning something new on hunts. Authors who were wrong or contradicting each other intentionally as they tried to prove the other was a fraud. It was why most hunters kept a journal, writing out what worked and what didn't against each monster they faced. Hunters shared information, but their stories weren't to be trusted because they kept out key facts and embellished details.

 

Perhaps he had learned a few of the wrong things from John. Sam had made mistakes, but so had he, so had John. None of those mistakes defined them. So they had both done things that started the Apocalypse, but no one here on Sigyn's property had ever suggested that this was anything but the best possible outcome for everyone. Ephraim had not seen another alternative to the way things had gone down. So why was he so worked up about it?

 

Dean couldn't answer that question. But everyone else had clearly moved on with their lives so he should too. “Where are these kennels again? I want to see what a pregnant Grim looks like.”

 

Sam swallowed and stopped, but Dean kept moving with all the single mindedness of a train. How did Dean know _that_? Dean hasn't been there.

 

He didn't get to ask because there was a scream. Not human. Wild, feral, terrified. The sound was high pitched, equine. There was only one thing on the property that would make that sound. A _Thestral foal_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite as long as this one. If you want to come find me on Tumblr, my username is sageclover61.


	4. "Life gets hard and I'm headed for the highway home"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not have done this without my betas, ThallenCambricaltran and NathyFaith. Enjoy!
> 
> I'm not entirely convinced that a physical copy of Ovid's Completed Works exists, but I don't own its copyright.

Once their youngest sons left the office in search of Grims, Sigyn and Loki were once again alone in their office. Loki finally picked the “Complete Works of Ovid” off the floor. “Do you want to hear the rest of Baucis and Philemon?” Loki asked.

 

Sigyn sat down on top of the desk. “Please. But then we should talk about the maturation of essence from the first universe. Samael and Daniel were still toddlers when they went through the portal.”

 

Loki opened the book to the ancient love poem and continued reading aloud from it. His wife was enthralled with every word of the Roman love story, and at last, he came to the closing paragraph. “ _ But still they were together, forever. You see, the linden and the oak grew from the same trunk. Zeus had granted their wish and people came from afar to marvel at this wonderful tree and to hang wreaths of flowers on its branches.” _

 

There was silence as Loki closed the book and put it away and Sigyn considered their own relation to the poem. 

 

“Do you think-” Sigyn swallowed and hopped down from the desk. Loki paused to look at her as she continued. “Do you think maybe our curse is finally broken?” She bit her lip at the thought of  _ What if it wasn’t? What if she lost all of them again _ ?

 

Loki pushed the book onto the shelf. He turned around and walked towards her. “If Sam and Dean regain and grow into their powers from the first universe, we’ll know more. Our wings came back after we left Limbo. Theirs will probably need more time because they were so young. That we have them at all-- It’s a good sign.”

 

He put a hand on her waist as she leaned against him. Sigyn was taller than Loki, but she bent to rest her head on his shoulder. He would have whispered an encouragement or a reminder that their almost infinitely powerful children wouldn't let anything bad happen, but that wasn't what she wanted. “None of us are going anywhere. And I'm not going anywhere.” He pressed his lips against her cheek and held her, a gentle physical reminder that he was there.

* * *

Gabriel had been watching as Michael and Ephraim healed the wounded angel. Samandriel had calmed, letting the archangel and the Healer do what they could for his wings and grace. “ _ What are you going to do about Naomi?” _

_ “I wanted to kill her for what she did to Castiel, but that won’t help the rest of the angels she’s injured. Or killed. We have to do something, though, because this can’t be allowed to continue. You’re the archangel of justice, what do you want to do about Naomi?” _

_ “Is Heaven’s prison still functional? We should make sure that none of the prisoners were put away unjustly.” _

_ “I won’t dispute that, but Heaven’s prison is too good for her. So’s smiting. We need names.” _

Gabriel considered Michael’s words. He agreed, but he hadn’t been about to say as much. There were times when it was difficult to separate this fully realized son of Sigyn with the perfectly obedient angel who might have frowned on Gabriel’s Trickster aspect. Now was not one of them.  _ “I have some ideas. Zachariah took to his rehabilitation quite… well.” _

Michael gave his brother a look, but it wasn’t quite disapproval.  _ “Okay.” _ His tone was one of, “I don’t want to know,” but not in a way that suggested it was because he didn’t agree with the methods. Nor did Michael need plausible deniability.

Samandriel gave a pitiful whimper as Michael flicked an especially bent feather. Ephraim glared at the archangel as he reached to right the damaged feather. The Healer’s grace glowed with a comforting incandescent umber as he encouraged the severed connections in Samandriel’s own grace and wings to regenerate. What was left of the charring of Samandriel’s wings disappeared even before Michael could move his own fingers to another section of wing. Ephraim’s own wings also healed themselves of their own minor damage as the healer’s grace seemed to expand to encompass all the injuries it could find within the space.

“Ephraim…”

Michael’s voice of concern was lost by the quiet cry at the bottom of the stairs. Glancing over, he saw Raphael standing at the bottom of them, his golden wings draped over his shoulders like a cloak. A few of his feathers were in his mouth with saliva dripping down his chin.

The eldest archangel stood up, slowly approaching the smallest. “Raph, what’s wrong?”

The toddler sized archangel held his arms up. “Up,” he mumbled around wet feathers. He hummed a content noise as Michael picked him up and held him. “Where Luci? He not upstairs.”

* * *

Lucifer was awoken by a nightmare of an angel stabbing another angel. He didn’t know who they were, but it felt real. He felt terror, but he was uncertain as to whether or not it could be his own terror because he wasn’t in any danger and he  _ knew _ that. Mica and Gabey wouldn’t let anything happen to him. But someone was definitely terrified, and that made him feel sad.

One of the puppies in his arms licked his face and he giggled as it chased the thoughts of the nightmare away. He could still tell that someone was terrified though, because there was a crash coming from the kitchen and a scent of burnt feathers. His own feathers twinged with phantom pain as he recalled his own feathers burnt by a long fall.

Raphael was sleeping in the same room and Lucifer was sure that his baby brother was also in the middle of a nightmare because the smaller fledgling kept letting out small whimpers. Lucifer wanted to do something, but the injured angel in the kitchen was being loud and Lucifer  _ needed _ out.

Lucifer carried both puppies out the back door. If anyone asked, he was prepared to tell them that he was taking them potty, but Mica and Gabey were busy with the angels in the kitchen and he didn’t run into anyone else. When he got down the back steps, he put the squirming fluff balls on the ground. One of the two hellhounds took off running towards the forest, so Lucifer ran after him. The second hellhound followed him.

The fledgling ended up deep in the forest, not far from where Crowley had given him the puppies. The leading puppy found the stick Lucifer had been playing with and picked it up with his mouth to bring it to Lucifer. The second hellhound barked eagerly at Lucifer when he reached for the stick.

“Fetch?” Lucifer asked as the first hellhound dropped the stick when he had taken hold of it. Both barked in what he took as agreement, so he threw the stick towards the forest.

The fledgling and the puppies played fetch for a few minutes until there was a ripple in the air and the appearance of two figures. One which Lucifer had seen earlier in the morning and another that Lucifer had not truly seen in aeons. That did not mean the he did not remember her. “Ramsey!” Lucifer shouted as the hellhound the size of a several story building rushed toward him, tail wagging for the the first time since Lucifer had been cast out of heaven.

Lucifer paid no attention to Crowley as Ramsey rushed towards him. The King of Demons had to look away.  _ This was a terrible mistake. _ Ramsey was attacking Lucifer. The archangel would defend himself against the Alpha and then smite him for bringing her here. He deserved it for putting his master in danger. He had trusted the myth that she only obeyed Lucifer and he would pay for it with his life.

Except nothing happened. Minutes passed, and there was no collision. No squelch of exploding hellhound, no cry of injury on the part of the archangel or yelp from the dog. There was a moment of silence, then another.

And then the silence was broken by the sound of fledgling laughter, like church bells chiming. Crowley had the horrible dawning realization that Lucifer wasn’t just wearing a child vessel _. He  _ was  _ a child.  _ Which meant that Crowley had to reconsider every conclusion he’d made since first making contact with the child Lucifer. Starting with the stick the puppies were now chewing on.

Looking back, Crowley found a shrunken Ramsey licking Lucifer in his entirety. The two hellhound puppies -  _ where was the female puppy? _ \- were nearby, burrowing in the Alpha’s fur. Ramsey’s tail was still wagging.

Ramsey was overjoyed to be with her master. This was a good home. She could tell this place was safe. Nothing would hurt him or the pups. She could smell three kin, but only two of them were in her sights and she  _ needed _ to know where the third was. After she bathed her master.

Her master was smaller than she remembered and smelled more like a pup of his own kind than the powerful creature that had protected her when she’d carried her own litter. This changed nothing, only meant that he needed her protection if he couldn’t protect himself to the same extent he had once used to protect her.

He might be her master, but he was still one of her pups and and hers to protect. Right now, her master was making happy noises. Good.

“Ramsey!” Lucifer cried through the laughter. “Stop, stop! You’s making me sticky!”

Ramsey stopped licking the fledgling, beding to rest her head next to his body.

Crowley was torn between going and staying. If Lucifer really was a fledgling again, leaving him to his own devices was not a good idea. But angels didn’t leave their children unattended, which meant there was likely to be someone or someone's that he really should not reveal himself to on this property.

The demon backed up, ready to disappear when the Alpha hellhound let out a low growl. Not at Lucifer and not at himself, but at something deeper in the forest he could not sense.

A scream echoed through the forest. Terror, injury. Crowley recognized it as a thestral, but didn’t know how he knew that. He’d never been around many, just enough to know what they were. From the high pitch, it had to be a foal.

What would attack a thestral here? Crowley knew the wards around this place were good. No demons had been capable of entering,  _ except him. _

In the direction of the scream, Ramsey smelled fear. The scent was coming from the third pup. There were two other beings present also, but she was certain they were not the cause of it.

They smelled of worry and they didn’t seem to be that different from her master. Litter mates, perhaps. Ones whose scents did not suggest they posed a danger to her pups. In fact, she thought they might be pups themselves.

The thestral screamed again, the sound followed by the hissing and growling of something she was unfamiliar with.

A far-away puppy barked and Ramsey could hear her. The Alpha’s ears perked up, listening to the sounds from the pup she couldn’t see.  _ Danger was afoot. Unacceptable. _

The adult hellhound ran in the direction of the pup and the injured thestral. The scent of ozone was strong in the air. Lucifer chased after his friend, no clue where she was going or why and his pups followed.

* * *

 

Ephraim finished healing the physical injuries to Samandriel’s grace. The young angel was still terrified, but no longer the worse for wear after fleeing through heaven.

  
“Are you feeling better?” Gabriel asked quietly.

Samandriel tried to scramble back to his feet. He was surrounded by archangels and Rit Zien and it terrified him. Yes, they’d healed him. But that didn’t mean he was safe from them or anyone else.

“Hey!” Ephraim chided. “I didn’t heal you so you could hurt yourself running away again. They are not going to hurt you.”

“Rit Zien,” Raphael cooed from Michael’s shoulder. “Rit Zien.”

Ephraim stood up, approaching the archangels. “Hello, Raphael.” He held his arms out when he was standing next to Michael. “May I hold you?”

Michael passed the fledgling to the Healer. “Gabriel, we need to find Lucifer and then deal with Naomi. No more distractions.” He looked to the young angel still sitting on the floor. “Samandriel, we will not harm you and we will not let Naomi hurt any more of our brothers and sisters. You are safe here.”

There was  _ power  _ in the archangel’s tone of voice that forced the terrified angel to begin settling. Michael’s words held no lie, just an honest truth. These wards were safe.

Ephraim sat down next to Samandriel, Raphael safely in his arms. “Fledgling?” he asked the other. The angel would not be capable of injuring the small archangel and would not want to. Perhaps being near a calm grace would settle his own.

The two archangels at full power took off outside. They would find the fledgling they believed to be missing and they would rain hell on anyone who thought they could steal one of theirs.

* * *

“We have to do something,” Dean said. They’d just heard the screams of a foal and he couldn’t just stand by and wait for the monster or whatever it was to kill it.

“We’re unarmed,” Sam replied.

Juliet whined. The puppy sat back on her haunches, looking in the direction the noise had come from.

Sam reached down to pet her head while Dean argued. “We could get something from Baby, or we could investigate first. Sigyn will be so upset if anything happens to that foal.”

The foal screamed again and Sam had to relent. “Reconnaissance only.”

Juliet barked, suddenly jumping up and taking off towards the edge of the wards. She continued barking as she did so.

Sam took off after her. “Juliet, heel! Heel!” His words had no effect on the puppy, she merely continued running as though she had not heard him.

Ramsey was tall and could easily outrun a lot of things. She did not run with great speed this time, because she knew her master would not be able to keep up with her.

“Ramsey, no! Come back!”

Sam heard Lucifer screaming from nearby as he overtook Juliet at the far edge of the forest, Dean on his heels.

The forest edge broke into a meadow. There was a stream running through the middle and out of the wards, which they could see a translucent blue dome extending up and over Sigyn’s property.

There was a seven headed monster outside the wards, thestral foal in it’s mouth and fire all around it and even across the wards.

Sam, Dean, and Juliet stopped moving, staring at the mythical creature in disbelief.

Behind them, there was the howl of an angry Alpha hellhound. The noise reverberated through the forest and meadow, echoing as though the wards themselves reflected it back threefold.

The hydra spat sparks and flame, dropping the thestral as though preparing for a battle with a haughty upriser over a piece of meat it could always come back for.

Lucifer crossed the tree line. “Ramsey!” he shouted. “Ramsey!” He remembered his hound. His only company for aeons, though he had not really been able to hear her inside the cage. Just impressions from her own imprisonment in the depths of limbo. She might have stayed free, had she not chosen to follow him to his imprisonment but Ramsey was nothing if not loyal and protective.

Ramsey challenged the hydra. The monster could not cross the wards, but the fire put her pups  _ all of them,  _ in danger, and she could not allow that.

“Ramsey, no!” Lucifer screamed. He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not again. He bolted past Sam and down the hill after Ramsey.

Sam and Dean had been frozen by the sight of the stories tall hellhound. They did not know who she, Ramsey, was, only that there had to be a story behind her and why she was here now.

“Lucifer!” Sam called. “Don’t go down there!” It wasn’t safe. If Lucifer was injured, Michael would kill them painfully. The fledgling wasn’t defenseless, but Sam knew nothing about real hydras. Only that some hero, Hercules maybe, had killed one in Greek Mythology. It hadn’t been easy.

The fledgling didn’t hear Sam. He had to save Ramsey.

_ “This creature is too violent,” God said to his eldest children as they watched a pack of hellhounds hunt. “They don’t obey anyone and their thirst for bloodshed is too great. They must be destroyed.” _

_ Michael nodded, quick to accept what he heard as an order. Raphael was only slightly less hesitant. He didn’t want to indiscriminately kill, but he had tended to many injuries caused by this creature and could agree that as it was, they were problematic. Gabriel was very young still, and cried because they were his ‘pets’. Why did they have to be eradicated? _

_ And Lucifer outright refused to participate in what he saw as senseless bloodshed. He could not stand to see his baby brother so upset, or the creatures he found himself identifying with, hurt. He had seen something specific in one hound and he couldn’t bare to lose it. Raphael had the sloth, Gabriel had his platypus, and Michael loved being encouraged for being the perfect son. Lucifer had  _ her _ and he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even Michael or Father, hurt her. _

_ So he didn’t. He took her and fled. Lucifer fled as far away from God’s light as he could, deep beyond the belly of the Earth. Hell as a dimension already existed, but it was empty. He took Ramsey there, and helped when the expectant Mother went into labor. He did not have a mother, but that did not stop him from thinking about the woman who had given him and Michael food when father was busy. And another who had laughed as he had played with someone he couldn’t see, but could only think of as  _ Brother.

One of the heads of the hydra licked it’s chops as it watched the small being running after the challenger. It would eat well tonight. This head leaned backwards, smoke curling from its nose as it summoned fire from its belly.

“Lucifer!” Dean could see the smoke rising from the beast. Fire would come next, and the hunter did not know if the wards would block it. Some of the grass on the inside of the wards was on fire, but Dean didn’t know what would happen if the hydra spat a fireball at the fledgling. 

_ “Protect him.” The static wasn’t static. It was quiet voices in the back of his mind that he had never been able to understand. Nor had he cared to. _

Sam could only watch with rising horror as Dean launched himself down the hill after the fledgling and the hydra spat.  _ If that fireball hits Dean or Lucifer… _

It was loud. It was chaos. The fire was sizzling, Ramsey was howling, the hydra was snapping. Juliet and her brothers barked while the foal cried and the herd of thestrals neighed loudly. They weren’t mourning yet, but a loss of any foal was a loss to them all. The archangels had come across the scent of sulfur and hellfire, but there had been no sign that Lucifer had left the wards. The hellhound puppies had left signs of their passing, so they followed the trail. The racket could be heard before there was any other evidence that something was wrong, and they hurried to find out what it was.

Running towards the sounds of the disturbance, Michael and Gabriel stepped through the tree line and the first thing they saw were the incandescent and iridescent wings, one pair spread in defence and the other wrapped around the owner and someone they were protecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. I do believe this story is starting to wind down, my muse keeps asking me, "Where is the plot?" and I don't really have an answer for her. Cookies for anyone who reviews with an idea for something, anything, they'd like to see in this universe, be it a timestamp or anything else. If you'd like to come find me on Tumblr, I'm sageclover61 there, sageclover on ffn, and clover61 on wattpad.


	5. "In this morning light let my roots take flight"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For how short this chapter is, it did not deserve the length of time it took me to write it. I guess summer escaped me? If you haven't read the new story I posted, War of Illusion, it is 75% of the reason this chapter took so long.
> 
> As always, there's no way this would have been written without ThallenCambricaltran and NathyFaith. I'd also like to thank Hyrule for the last read through.

Dean’s wings were folded, wrapped tightly around himself and Lucifer. The stance was one the archangels recognized as an instinctual defense of someone they cared about and wanted to protect. The wings were a dark green tinged with copper that glowed with an incandescent hue that could only be grace.

 

Sam stood in front of the hunched figure, his own pair of wings spread behind him. They were a dark bronze, almost black. The iridescent colors swirled like gemstones in an aurora; emerald, amethyst, sapphire, lapis, turquoise. He was firmly planted between Dean and a hydra, his wings held firm in a defensive maneuver even as sparks and flame crossed through the edges of the wards.

 

The archangels saw a multi-headed hydra standing just outside the wards, toe to toe with a multi-story tall hellhound. Gabriel did not know which hellhound this was, but Michael did.

 

“Ramsey,” the eldest archangel breathed.

 

The hydra inhaled. Just as it was about to exhale another barrage of flame, Ramsey snapped and lunged, tearing the beast’s heart right out of its chest. Before the beast could react, it was already dead.

 

Ramsey turned around and walked past Dean and Lucifer, towards the hill until she reached Michael. Gabriel raised an eyebrow as Ramsey dropped the hydra heart at Michael’s feet. “Why’d she go and do that for? That’s just gross.”

 

“It’s an alpha thing,” Michael replied. “She sees me as alpha, I think, but it’s also a reminder that she’s not going to let anyone or anything hurt her pups. Which probably includes Lucifer.”

 

Lucifer slipped out of Dean's protective embrace and ran up the hill. “Ramsey! Mica!” he shouted as he ran.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Gabriel said when Lucifer came near. “We were worried about you.”

 

“I's fine!” Lucifer ducked out of the way of Michael's reaching hands to scoop the hydra heart off the ground. “Wha’s this?” He opened his mouth widely to take a bite.

 

“Don't eat that!” Michael picked the fledgling up with more success this time. Settling the child against his hip, he used a hand to grip the hydra heart. “This isn't food, Luci. It won't taste good.”

 

Gabriel vanished the hydra heart with a snap. Who thought that letting a child anywhere near such a thing was a good idea?

 

“Mine!” Lucifer whined as the object in his hands disappeared.

 

Michael rubbed Lucifer’s shoulder, comforting the sniffling fledgling.

 

The thestral foal was more scared than injured, and with no big creatures trying to eat her, she ran to where her mother was standing among the herd. They retreated back into the safer part of Sigyn’s forest.

 

Sam and Dean hiked up the hill towards the archangels. This took more effort than usual mostly because they couldn’t figure out how to make their wings fold properly.

 

The brothers felt their feathers roaming on the grass ground, tingling slightly, as they walked closer and closer towards the archangels. This was as amusing as it was uncomfortable. The fact that they were incapable of controlling a part of their bodies bothered them more than they were able to put in words. They knew it was a part of them, like having powers and telekinesis was a part of Sam, but if someone were to ask Dean, he wasn’t pleased, no, no. Dean was all about control and rules, and not having said that balanced between what he knew and what he had to discover was well, walking on Sam’s shoes. And it didn’t help that Sammy was perfectly fine with discovering they had a bunch of siblings and that he was being cuddled and such.

 

Dean didn’t need cuddling, that was ridiculous. He was a grown man, but as much as his mind complained about it - way too much time living under John’s rules - his body accepted the affections all too well.

 

Sam smiled as he saw Gabriel and Michael standing side by side. Michael had put the fledgling down and Lucifer was running behind them, the giant hellhound rolling and jumping from side to side, clearly pleased that she was once again returned to her master.

 

“Okay, kiddos. Lesson number uno,” Gabriel said when the Winchesters finally stopped in front of him. “Your wings are currently manifested on the physical plane. It makes sense that they would become corporeal the first time you spread them in a very long time, but I’m going to help you put them away because we’re going back to the house and we’d rather you didn’t knock everything down in the process.”

 

Dean looked over his shoulder and then back at Gabriel. “And we’re going to do that, how, exactly?”

 

Michael extended a hand towards Sam. “May I?”

 

Sam shrugged, causing his wings to extend in nonchalance. “Sure, why not?”

 

Michael’s hand was about to touch the back of Sam’s neck when Dean interrupted him. “Okay, Gabe, how do we do it?” Dean's words didn't surprise the older archangel. Michael smiled silently in amusement, of course his little brother had zero patience and just wanted to be able to fold his wings in a blink.

 

“Patience is a virtue, Dean,” Sam mocked.

 

“I’m not you, Sammy. Plus, look at you! You look even bigger now with those wings. It's quite intimidating.”

 

Sam frowned and Gabriel laughed, running a finger through Dean's middle back between his shoulders and the start of his feathers. Dean shivered slightly, finding the sensation foreign but at the same time familiar, as if he had received the loving touch before.

 

“It's rather simple--”

 

“Says the archangel of many, many aeons-”

 

“No, I mean it really is simple.” With those words, Gabriel demonstrated by unfolding a physical manifestation of his wings and then refolding them with as little effort as flexing an arm. “Think of it as another muscle. Instead of bending your arms or stretching your shoulders, you're stretching your wings.”

 

Dean blinked at where Gabriel's wings had been in confusion. “That motion isn't anything like Cas’s outline in the shadows, or when Raphael's were formed by the electricity when he knocked out the Eastern seaboard.”

 

Michael tilted his head while Gabriel laughed. “Of course not! That's posturing! You can’t fly like that.”

 

“Why would they need to posture?” Michael asked in confusion.

 

Gabriel didn’t bother to answer that question. Michael really hadn’t spent enough time with humans to understand and he didn’t feel like explaining.

 

“They were probably finding humans to be blasphemous slugs and used it to show their superiority,” Sam suggested. “Could you demonstrate again?” He thought maybe if he could just see it again then he could do it. It had to be a muscle thing, right?

 

“Weren’t you watching the first time?” Gabriel teased, even as he performed the demonstration slower.

 

Sam stuck his tongue out in concentration. He was certain he had seen how Gabriel had done it so that he could mimic the action. All he wanted to do was fold his wings out of the physical plane so they wouldn’t knock anything over. He didn’t want to break something of Sigyn’s. He could almost see muscles stretching to pull the extra set of appendages into a full range of motion and then leaving the plane. They were still there, just not physically. So maybe if he moved his shoulder blades…

 

The archangels were able to contain their laughter when Sam face planted the ground. Dean on the other hand roared with laughter. It wasn’t even entirely at his brother’s expense, but at the situation in general. They’d been trying to stop the apocalypse only a few weeks ago and now here they were, winged creatures themselves and they didn’t even know how to fly yet.

 

The memories of various lifetimes were there, but they had not even fully grown in their feathers in the first life, and there had been no outside in which to stretch because the fear of Light and Dark had been real and not unwarranted, as the other lives in other universes revealed.

 

Dean sobered with that thought and his wings drooped showing the others that understood wing language what direction the hunter’s thoughts had turned towards.

 

Michael sighed. He wanted to teach them to fly here and now, but they weren’t his children. He would not cheat Sigyn out of any flying lessons she wanted to give and his to do list was already growing longer than he cared for. “We need to get back to the house,” he said. “Gabriel and I have a matter to attend to in Heaven and it can’t wait any longer. Naomi has injured all the angels she is going to pay.”

 

“We forgot the hellhound food,” Sam whispered once he was standing again.

 

Gabriel snapped, summoning a sack of Grim food from the kennels somewhere on the property. He wasn’t sure where it was, only Sigyn and Loki used it for anything.

 

“Is that everything?”

 

Dean recognized Michael’s tone of voice. It was an exasperated older brother voice, the one used when there were plans and actions to take and  _ somebody _ was holding up the show. “That’s everything,” he said, knowing that they had reached the limit on things Michael was willing to do  _ right this second.  _

 

“Good. I’ve got Sam. Lucifer, come here. Gabriel, you have Dean?” Michael didn’t wait for Gabriel to respond. As soon as Lucifer was back in his arms, he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and took flight straight for Sigyn’s living room.

* * *

 

Balthazar and Anna were curled up on the sofa, heads close together. Castiel kneeled on the floor at their feet, his head lying on the sofa near theirs. Anna ran her fingers through Castiel’s hair and along the edges of his wings. She wasn’t quite grooming him, but the three of them were definitely having a quiet moment. Balthazar watched, and at some point whispered, “I missed this.”

 

“I missed us,” Castiel agreed, equally quiet. Anna tugged at a particularly gnarled feather and he sighed in appreciation as it was straightened and she went back to petting him.

 

Michael, Lucifer, and Sam landing near the door frame was not loud, but it was far from silent. Balthazar glanced at them to make sure there was no threat, but when he made no movement, Anna didn’t cease her ministrations and Castiel didn’t move. There was no embarrassment to be had and they weren’t going to move because they were comfortable.

 

“The children got their first set of feathers?” Hela asked from the kitchen. She sounded gleeful.

 

Ephraim and Samandriel were still sitting on the floor, but Raphael was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Don’t laugh too hard,” Michael warned. “You and Jor are about due to grow in your own.”

 

Gabriel and Dean flew in and landed a little behind Sam and Michael. Michael nodded to Gabriel and put Lucifer down on the floor. The two of them were gone a moment later with a single synchronic wingbeat.

 

“Where’d they go?!” Dean asked, confused.

 

“They went to clean up their mess in Heaven,” Hela answered. “Isn’t that right, Ephraim?”

 

“I hope so,” the Rit Zien answered, hopeful. “It’s about time.”

 

“Then let’s give the infants some flying lessons while they’re gone!” Balthazar exclaimed, using his shoulder to move into a more upright position until Anna put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

 

Sam folded his wings neatly behind him, and forced them into an incorporeal state. “I’d prefer to wait for Michael to get back.”

 

“Whoa!” Dean exclaimed, having been watching Sam. “How’d you do that?! You face planted the first time!”

 

“By watching Gabriel. Really, Dean, are you so slow?” Sam rolled his eyes, then looked down at Lucifer. “You wanna go ask Sigyn where we should put the hellhound food? I think Ramsey is a little big to come inside don’t you?”

 

“No,” Lucifer responded, sticking his lip out petulantly. “Small enough to fit.”

 

“If you say so.” Sam didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t going to argue because if Ramsey was Lucifer’s, then the archangel probably knew more about her abilities than he did. Maybe Sigyn would know. He looked over his shoulder at his brother. “You coming?” He was already walking in the direction of Sigyn’s office, Lucifer right next to him.

 

“I’m not going anywhere before I figure out how to make these things disappear. I don’t fancy running into any walls.”

 

Ephraim snickered. “Fledglings, the lot of you!”

 

“And what would you know, Rit Zien?” Balthazar called from the sofa, bristling.

 

“Now who’s acting like children?” Hela jumped off the table and started walking towards Dean. “There’s no reason for the two of you to have a pissing contest here. You’re both old, sure, but some of us are  _ unfathomably older _ .” When she passed the doorway and got to Dean, she stepped behind him and held up a hand towards his spine, but not touching him yet. “May I?”

 

“Sure,” Dean replied, ready to give anything a go. Not breaking any of Sigyn’s things seemed like a good idea.

 

Hela laid her index finger on his spine at the base of his neck, and ran her finger slowly along his spine from there to his waist. Magic thrummed through her fingertips, and as her finger moved his wings started folding into a relaxed position the way they were supposed to. When she removed her finger from near the bottom of his back, Dean’s wings faded into the non corporeal form they’d wanted them in.

 

Dean looked over his shoulder. “Awesome! Thanks, Sis!” He ran in the direction Sam had disappeared off to, not fully aware of the words he’d spoken.

 

Hela grinned at the acknowledgement. She’d hoped they’d both warm up to being family. Sam and Dean both still had their own issues to work through, as did Michael and Gabriel, not to mention that both Raphael and Lucifer were still small fledglings. But there hadn’t been any real fights yet, which was probably a good sign for what the future would hold. Balthazar would still inevitably find a way to get Dean back for drinking the rest of the fire whiskey, and she was pretty sure there was a demon hanging around too close for comfort, but it  _ apparently _ didn’t mean any harm either.

 

There would be flying lessons, and a cleaning up of heaven, and a raising of mythical creatures. They were a complicated family robust with many issues, but what family wasn’t? Someone once said that a family of eternal gods would have an eternity of problems to arise. Why should it be any different for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm marking this fic as complete because I feel that I've for the most part, told the story I was telling here. I haven't explored everything I wanted this verse to cover, but I also need to take a step back before I continue because I'm so far from the story I had thought I was telling.
> 
> I have a few plans for future scenes in this verse, but I'm also open for receiving something like prompts. Is there something you wanted to see in the Trickster 'verse? Leave me a comment or find me on Tumblr under the same username. I'm always open to conversation!

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really busy month for me, and if I hadn't written most of this on notebook paper when I didn't have internet access, this chapter would have taken even longer. ThallenCambricaltran and Altyex got me through this chapter, and Thal and Nathyfaith were very dedicated proof-readers that I couldn't have done without! I appreciate them so much.


End file.
